Tonight or Tomorrow
by cassiemortmain
Summary: An M-rated collection of Sybil x Tom stories with different themes and time periods but with one thing in common - they all celebrate the sexiest couple on Downton Abbey. ;) New chapter - Dublin, 1919 - It's Christmas Eve - while Sybil waits for Tom to get home from work, she has some fun without him, until he arrives home unexpectedly... Merry Christmas, S/T fandom!
1. Long hot summer

_Author's note_

This new S/T M-rated fic (which was based on a drabble I wrote a while ago) was written in part to mark Australia Day on 26 January, and also to share some warmth with my shivering friends suffering through a very cold winter in the northern hemisphere. Our lovely couple are living in Sydney and are about to embark on a day of shopping at the post-Christmas sales...

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><p><strong>Long hot summer<strong>

Sybil lay back in the tangled sheets, her breathing slowly returning to normal. She and Tom were face to face, their naked bodies close together as they shared in the afterglow of their loving. His arm rested around her waist under her body, while his other hand and mouth moved lazily across her skin, which was glowing with the sheen of the summer morning.

She sighed, looking at the clock, and stretched like a contented cat in his arms. "Come on darling, we need to get up and start the day. We've got things we need to do."

"Mmmmm," he mumbled, his mouth on her breast, his hand running down her ribs and gently tickling her side, making her giggle and squirm. "Do we have to?"

"We have to go back to work again next week and you need some shirts. I need a new suit, too."

He leaned up on one elbow and kissed her, before slowly getting out of bed and following her towards the kitchen. They had been married for a few months now, after a romance lasting only three weeks, and he still couldn't believe how lucky he was, to be able to wake up next to her every day...

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><p>Tom followed Sybil onto the escalator, grimacing as someone trod on his toe. The post-Christmas sales at David Jones were always crammed with people and this year was no exception.<p>

She walked ahead of him to the rack. "Look, here are a few nice ones - what do you think?"

He grabbed a handful of shirts - they all looked the same to him - and headed to the change room. She sat down on the chair outside, listening to the music piping through the speakers, and recognised an old song from years ago -

_"Don't matter what I do_  
><em>Don't matter what I do<em>  
><em>Don't matter what I do<em>  
><em>'cause I end up hurting you"<em>

She heard Tom's voice, calling out to her. She looked around to see if there were any busybody salespeople around to stop her going into the men's changing room, then went through the door, whispering -

"Tom, where are you?"

He opened his door a little and waved her in.

"I can't choose, what do you think, love?"

Sybil's eyes opened wide as he casually undid the buttons on the shirt he was wearing and shrugged it off, the sight of his muscular arms and chest setting her heart racing. She couldn't help letting out a little gasp of longing -

"Sybil, don't even think about it. We're already on a warning after last time! Oh hell, twist my arm, come here..."

He pulled her over to him, wrapping his arm around her waist and sliding his fingers into her tousled hair, twisted up on top of her head against the heat. She looked up at him with that look through her eyelashes she knew always drove him crazy -

"Well, if you insist…"

Their mouths met in a kiss and she found herself moaning against his lips as his tongue found hers. She let one hand rest on his chest over his heart, while the other one ran slowly up his bicep before sliding behind his neck. His fingers slid inside her shirt and under her bra, playing with her nipple as he kissed her deeply, his other arm pulling her close to his body...

"Hem, hem!"

They broke apart with guilty expressions on their faces. _Bollocks, it's the same guy! Hope he doesn't remember us!_

"I hope I don't need to remind you this is a public place, with children outside! Please get dressed and leave, immediately. I don't want to have to involve the police."

Tom quickly put on his shirt and, hand in hand, he and Sybil fled the scene. It wasn't until they were back on the escalator that they turned to each other and laughed -

"Sybil, just wait till I get you home."

His eyes flashed at her and she gave him a cheeky grin as they walked off the escalator.

"Next stop, QVB!"

* * *

><p>They made their way through the crowds and into the historic building. After they stopped for a quick lunch, Sybil led him along the ground floor and turned into David Lawrence, a shop she often visited for workwear. She browsed the racks expertly, finding a few things she liked and slinging them over her arm. A salesperson led her to the changing room and closed the door as Tom settled into the "husband" chair.<p>

"Sybil, how are you getting on in there?"

"Be patient Tom - I think you will like it!"

She pushed the curtain aside and came out in a slim fitting grey suit, with a single button jacket and pencil skirt that hugged her curves in all the right places.

He felt his jaw sagging as she twirled around to give him the 360 degree view - _Her arse in that skirt! Oh my GOD!_ Suddenly he felt his trousers getting too tight and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. She looked into his face and fluttered her eyelashes at him -

"Oh, don't you like it?" Her wink showed him she could see exactly what was going on.

"Sybil, for fuck's sake - I've got to get you out of that skirt right now," he muttered, unable to hide the raging desire sweeping over him as he looked at his wife.

She had a brainwave - "Well, we are in the Queen Victoria Building. They have a ladies room up on the third floor with really big cubicles..." She bit her lip and pretended to look coy - if it was possible, he wanted her even more after that.

"Give the lady your credit card and let's get out of here, Mrs Branson!"

"Your wish is my command, Mr Branson."

She changed quickly and, once they had paid for the suit, they ran to the escalator...

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><p>Sybil had a quick look inside - amazingly, the bathroom was empty and there was one door unlocked on the far side.<p>

"Come on, quick, the coast is clear." She beckoned Tom in with a "come here" gesture.

They crept inside the vacant cubicle and closed and locked the door, then turned to look at each other. Their bodies moved as one, coming together in a rush of heat that challenged the baking sun outside. His mouth fell on hers in a searing kiss, ravaging her as he tore off her shirt. She pulled his t-shirt out of his jeans, lifting it over his head as he undid her bra and dropped it in the floor, her skirt and knickers quickly following it.

He grabbed her and lifted her, pushing her naked body against the wall, her sandals falling off her feet as she wrapped her legs around his body. She could feel his arousal pushing hard against her thigh and she whispered in his ear, urging him on.

"Tom, please, fuck me, I need you to fuck me so hard..."

He fumbled to undo his fly, jeans falling to his knees, and freed his cock, already erect and aching for her. He tore open a condom with his teeth and rolled it on, before pushing into her, up to the hilt, filling her completely.

For a moment, they stayed still, staring into each other's eyes, her arms sliding around his neck. Then, eyes still locked on hers, he started to thrust, slowly at first, getting into a rhythm with her as she found her balance against the cold tiles. One hand grabbed her arse while the other was braced against the wall. A deep groan escaped him as they started to move together and she shook her head -

"Tom, shhh, we'll be caught."

Sybil shifted herself to a position where, each time he drove into her, his cock rubbed against her swollen clit, building up an almost unbearable friction almost immediately. She let out a gasp and closed her eyes, biting her lip and tightening her hold on him. She was lost in their shared world of desire and longing, forgetting where she was, forgetting everything but the taste of his lips, the feel of his skin, the blue of his eyes. He murmured to her of how much he loved her, how beautiful she was, how he could never get enough of her...

Tom needed to touch more of her so he braced himself with one leg against the wall before lifting his hand to put it to her cheek. He let his fingers trail slowly down to her throat, running along her collarbone, grazing the side of her breast, following the curve of her waist. He put a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his, kissing her closed eyes before he began to move faster, pushing harder into her.

She began to shiver in his arms and, as she broke apart, she opened her mouth to scream. He was on the verge of orgasm too but he was still enough in possession of himself to remember where they were, and leaned in to capture her mouth with his just as the scream escaped her lips, a sound that rose up from deep inside her, a place she had only ever touched with him.

Her core convulsed around him over and over, and he couldn't hold on any more, coming so hard his knees trembled and he struggled to hold them both up. Her head fell onto his shoulder, her arms and legs locked around him, holding him inside her for a few more moments before he gently lifted her down and found her lips with his. Their hearts were still racing in time as they held each other close...

After a few minutes, Tom lifted his mouth reluctantly from hers and stepped back, tugging off the condom and pulling his jeans back up. Sybil slowly opened her eyes and smiled, flashing him a grin and a hip tilt before leaning down to grab her underwear and starting to get dressed. As she went to fasten her shirt, she saw that half the buttons had been ripped away.

Once they were both dressed after a fashion, he picked up her shopping bags and they opened the door, only to find several curious women waiting outside, clearly only too aware of what they had been doing in there. A uniformed guard stepped forward - _Oh fuck, not again! Twice in one day!_

"Come on darling, let's go."

Sybil boldly took hold of her husband's hand, holding her shirt closed with the other, and led him through the curious onlookers to the door, pushing straight past the security guard and starting to run as they reached the main concourse, getting lost in the crowds...

"OK, mister - you owe me a new shirt!"

Tom dropped one eyelid in a cheeky wink - "Only to happy to oblige, my love - my only condition is that you choose a shop that has a large changing room."

She swatted his chest - "You're too cheeky for your own good, Tom."

"Just as well you love me for it, isn't it! Come on, you must be tired, Sybil. Let me take you home, give you a foot massage and pour you a large glass of wine."

"Make that two, and you've got yourself a deal."

"Whatever you say, darling. Didn't I once promise you I'd devote every waking minute to your happiness?"

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><p><em>AN -_

Song credit - "Long Hot Summer" by the Style Council. Thanks to angiemagz for the awesome gif I used to accompany this fic on Tumblr and to the Yankee Countess for helping me brainstorm a couple of ideas for it.

I've written quite a few short/one-shot M-rated Sybil x Tom fics in the last few months on Tumblr, and a few people have kindly suggested I bring them together somewhere on ff. This story is the first chapter of that new collection, which I am calling "Tonight or Tomorrow" (again, thanks to the Yankee Countess for the idea for the title!). I plan to add my backset of fics to it from Tumblr gradually, to bring everything together. The stories in this collection will range over different themes and time periods, but the common thread will be that they all celebrate the sexiest couple on Downton Abbey. ;)

Couple of notes on the Sydney locations mentioned - David Jones is the largest department store in Sydney (it's a national chain), while the Queen Victoria Building is a beautifully restored building from the late nineteenth century, which has been turned into a large shopping centre in the middle of the city.

Thanks as always for your support of my writing! Would love to know what you think. :)


	2. Blues and twos

_Author's note -_

Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/reviewed/favourited this collection so far! I really love to hear from you - it's so inspiring. :)

This M-rated S/T story came to me when I watched _The Sweeney_. While the movie itself was not great, one character in particular (played by Allen Leech) caught my eye and I immediately imagined Tom and Sybil in a sexy police!AU...

I am dedicating this story to my friend, the lovely and talented Yankee Countess. I am also, at last, fulfilling a couple of prompts, sent to me by Pointless Things and Mimijag some time ago - they both asked for Sybil x Tom "forced to share a bed", and Christine also asked for "handcuffed together". Hope you both enjoy this one, my friends, and sorry it took me so long!

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><p><strong>Blues and twos<strong>

Detective Inspector Sybil Crawley took the lid off her cappuccino and leaned back in her chair – time to relax for five minutes before catching up on the paperwork for her last case.

"Excuse me, DI Crawley?"

She looked up, annoyed, to see a pair of blue eyes –

"What do you want?"

"Sorry to disturb you, ma'am. I'm DS Tom Branson – just transferred in, they told me to come and find you."

His Irish accent and cheeky good looks seemed to make no impression at all on his new boss. She rolled her eyes –

"What the fuck is the Super thinking, assigning me a new team member without even asking me? OK, Branson, go and find a desk over there and stay put until I tell you."

"Even if I need to use the gents, ma'am?"

"Take a seat, Detective Sergeant! And don't ever call me 'ma'am' again – makes me sound like the Queen. It's 'guv' to you."

Tom slunk over to a desk in the corner, muttering something that Sybil thought might have been "Bossy cow" in passing. She looked over at DS Mason, who sat in the desk beside hers.

"Cheeky bastard! Who the hell is that guy?"

"Not sure, guv. Want me to do some digging for you?"

She sighed, sipping her coffee and reaching for a chocolate croissant from the box on his desk.

"No, it's all right, thanks Mason. I'm sure I will get to the bottom of it eventually, once Superintendent Hughes shows her face."

She was turning back to her paperwork, munching on the sweet pastry with a frown on her face, when the phone rang –

"DI Crawley – yes, guv, he's here. I was wondering..."

She stopped talking and listened to her boss in full flow – "An armed robbery in progress? Leave it to us, we're on it."

She looked over at DS Mason and the rest of her team –

"Right, there's a blag going down in the City of London – private bank, very hush hush, a bunch of lowlifes are robbing it right now, and we're going to clean up the mess. Mmmm – Mason, Barrow, Nugent, O'Brien – new guy, what's your name again?"

"Branson, DS Branson, ma'am."

Her eyes flashed fire at him – "I already told you, Branson, don't call me that!"

She stood up, grabbing her jacket from the back of the chair – "What are you waiting for, you lot – a written fucking invitation? Grab your vests and move it!"

The team raced out the door of the squad room and down to the garage, where they piled into a couple of vacant police cars. Sybil saw Tom take the driver's seat and jerked her thumb at him –

"Get out of there, I'm driving."

"Yes, ma'am... I mean, yes, guv."

He dropped the keys into her waiting hand and got into the back seat beside a guy with glossy black hair and a superior expression.

"Tom Branson, nice to meet you."

The other man looked at his extended hand as if it were a snake, then let out a snarky laugh – "What is this, a fucking mother's meeting?"

A tall redhead got in to take the last place in the car, slamming the door shut, and the men sat in silence as the cars tore out of the garage, Sybil's in the lead, sirens blaring and lights flashing.

They headed along the Embankment towards the City of London and, before long, they were pulling up outside a nondescript modern building with discreet signage in Arabic and English. Sybil pulled haphazardly into the curb and jumped out, looking around to assess the situation.

The front door of the building was opening, and she saw four men in black, wearing balaclavas and carrying guns and bags. Immediately, she dropped down behind the car, gesturing to the rest of the team to do the same.

"Get down!" she mouthed at them, before grabbing the microphone from the dashboard.

_"This is the Metropolitan Police, you are under arrest. Drop your weapons and get down on the ground, now!"_

Hearing her voice blaring out of the speakers on top of the car, the robbers clustered together in a group and opened fire.

_"I said – you are under arrest! Cease fire immediately and drop your weapons!"_

Sybil stood up, staying in the shelter of the car as much as she could, and brought out her gun, firing a well-aimed shot just past the shoulder of the man who seemed to be the ringleader. He turned to look at her, and their eyes met – she could tell she was face to face with a stone cold killer. The longer her team stayed there, the more danger they'd be in – _Time to break the deadlock..._

"Freeze, scumbags! You're under arrest!" she shouted as she ran out towards them, zigzagging her way behind cars and lampposts towards the gang, her team following closely behind her.

The robbers saw the number of police on their trail and started to run towards a large black van parked a block or so away – their getaway vehicle.

"Stop them! Don't let them get away!"

She turned to find DS Branson right beside her and the two of them ran along the footpath, keeping as close as they could to the shelter of the buildings, every once in a while ducking or changing course to avoid a bullet. The rest of the team was following a similar course on the other side of the road and together they were closing in on the gang –

"Drop it, copper, or you're dead."

Sybil was jerked off her feet as she felt someone grab her around the throat from behind – _Shit, one of them was hiding in that alleyway..._

She could feel something cold and hard being pressed into her back, and with a jolt she saw they had also caught her new DS in a similar chokehold. Both of them dropped their guns, holding up their hands.

They were lifted and thrown into the back of the van and, just before the double doors were slammed shut, one of the robbers leaned in to hit both of them on the head, knocking them out cold...

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><p>Sybil's head was throbbing when she came to and found that, for some reason, she couldn't move her right hand from above her head... <em>What the fuck?<em>

She opened her eyes to find herself lying on her side, barely able to see in the dim light from the one dirty window in the room. Her right arm was stretched above her head and her eyes widened when she saw why – her own handcuffs had been locked around her wrist and threaded around a heating duct sticking out of the wall above her head, keeping her tethered and unable to get off the mattress she was lying on. _Oh God, they're holding us hostage..._

She heard a muttered curse and realised that the other half of the handcuffs was attached to DS Branson. He rolled over to face her, and without warning his mouth crashed onto hers in a passionate kiss.

She responded immediately, pushing her tongue into his mouth and sliding her free hand around his body as he pulled her towards him. Grabbing, clawing at each other, their kiss deepened still further and she let out a moan...

When he finally pulled his lips from hers, he murmured –

"Mo ghile, are you all right?"

She nodded – "Yes, Tom, I think so – how about you?"

"Apart from that almighty whack on the head, yes." He tightened his arm around her waist again, drawing her into his body –

"God, Sybil, when I saw that man grab you, I was terrified!"

She looked down, then back up, meeting his eyes –

"I guess there's a reason they don't let married couples work on the same team! Oh darling, if anything had happened to you..."

He stopped her words with another kiss, their bodies moving together perfectly as they had done many times before. She snuggled more closely into him, feeling his hand slide up under her t-shirt to caress the smooth skin of her back, and felt her breath catch in her throat as the ever-present desire between them rose up, hotter than ever in spite of the terrifying situation they found themselves in.

Tom lifted up her top and Sybil shifted her position to give his mouth access to her body. He fell on her, ravishing her, and she found herself straining against him, trying to get as close as she could as his teeth nipped at the soft skin on the tops of her breasts before he pushed down the lace cups of her bra, finding her nipples and sucking them.

They both wanted more, so he managed to manoeuvre himself so he could undo his fly. She slipped her hand inside his trousers, finding his erect cock and running her fingers along his length, seeing his eyes roll back in his head at her touch.

"God, Sybil, that feels incredible..."

"Love, please, I need you, I need to feel you inside me now..."

She unzipped her dark jeans and pulled them free of her hips, and he helped her turn over so she was facing away from him, her tethered hand still above her head. He tugged her knickers down as he slid his cock into her from behind, his free hand moving around her waist and between her legs, stroking her swollen clit.

Sybil was melting with longing as Tom started to thrust, taking his time with her, murmuring in her ear and kissing the back of her neck. With his words and with his touch, he coaxed her out of that dingy room where they were imprisoned, helping her escape to their private world, a world where they could be free...

She pushed her ripe arse back against him as he drove into her, gradually increasing his pace. Control was almost beyond her now – he knew every inch of her so intimately, and in her heightened emotional state she was even readier than usual to respond to him. He could feel her tensing around him and knew how close she was, so he held back just a little, wanting to draw out her release for as long as he could...

"I love you so much, Sybil, lig tú féin dul, mo ghile..." he murmured in her ear, teasing her clit as his cock moved inside her in perfect rhythm with his fingers.

His beautiful Irish words pushed her over the edge and, despite the danger they were in, she found herself screaming his name as she came, over and over, her body convulsing around him and pushing him to his own orgasm as well.

His fingers stayed on her through the aftershocks, not leaving her until she was done. Then, she moved her body slightly to let him fall free of her, turning back around awkwardly to face him and finding his lips with hers, whispering her love to him between kisses, which he returned with interest...

Tom's hand was just finding Sybil's breasts again when they heard gunfire outside, and the lovers quickly did their best to return their clothing to some kind of order. Just in time – DS Mason burst through the door.

"Guv, Branson, you both OK?"

She called across the room to him – "Yes, Mason, get us the fuck out of here!"

Mason hurried across the room, fumbling with his keys – everyone on the team had the same handcuffs and he was able to free them pretty quickly. Sybil immediately rolled away from Tom, frowning as she sat up on the mattress which had so recently been the scene of their passion.

"I heard screaming, guv, and I thought you were hurt – if you hadn't called out, not sure how long it would have taken us to find you!"

DS O'Brien ran in and she and Mason helped Sybil and Tom to their feet. The Bransons dared to give each other a single, loving glance before the masks slipped back into place –

"Branson, you muppet, get out of my way! Christ, the crap I have to put up with in this job..."

Mason raised an eyebrow at O'Brien as Sybil raced out the door to find the rest of her team – "Nice to see the DI's straight back on form - hard as nails, she is."

Tom smiled to himself_ – If they only knew...  
><em>

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><p><em>AN -_

"Blues and twos" is a colloquial British term that refers to the vehicle equipment of combined flashing lights and sirens that the emergency services in the UK use when responding to an incident. The origin of the phrase comes from the fact the lights are usually blue and the traditional siren was a two-tone horn.

Irish translations, per Google translate -

"mo ghile" = my darling

"lig tú féin dul" = let yourself go


	3. Dealer's choice

_Author's note -_

Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/reviewed/favourited this collection so far! I really love to hear from you - it's so inspiring. :) Since ff was playing up for a day or so when I posted the previous chapter (a modern police!AU), you might want to go back and read that if you missed it.

This Sybil x Tom story fits into a Lady Sybil Lives S4 AU I have already written a few drabbles for on Tumblr, where the Bransons have moved to London with their daughter so that Sybil can pursue her dream of becoming a doctor, while Tom returns to journalism. It was written for gothamgirl28 for the S/T Valentine Exchange, and it was inspired by a blog post where she imagined our lovely couple playing a game of cards, with a sexy twist...

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><p><strong>Dealer's choice<strong>

_Grantham House, summer 1923_

"This collar is choking me – you know I hate wearing this getup!"

Tom pulled at his tie, making a face, and Sybil smiled at him.

"It's only for one night. Matthew was kind enough to lend it to you, so it would have been a bit rude not to wear it, don't you think? Besides, you do look very handsome in it, darling!"

He returned her smile, lifting their linked hands to his lips and kissing her knuckles – "I'd do anything for you, Sybil, you know that, even wear the uniform of oppression once in a while if I have to."

A cheeky wink came his way – "Still my fiery socialist, aren't you, Tom! I'll make it worth your while later, I promise."

She smoothed his fringe back from his face and leaned in to brush his lips with hers. What was meant to be a quick kiss lasted longer than she expected once his hand came up to caress the back of her neck...

"You two, always canoodling in a corner! Come and talk to us, Sybil darling – we haven't seen you for so long. Why haven't you visited sooner? We've been here for nearly two weeks already."

Sybil got up, pulling Tom with her, and they walked across the drawing room. Watching them, the Dowager Countess opined to Cora –

"Don't they know it's bad form for a married couple to sit together like that all the time?"

The Bransons arrived by the fireplace, where Mary was holding court with Matthew by her side. The sisters kissed each other in greeting, while their husbands shook hands.

"Well, I am studying very hard right now, Mary – I had my exams last week, so I really haven't had time to come before..."

Tom looked at his wife with pride clearly written on his face. Her first year of medical studies had been a great success – in the top group in her class for every exam and assessment so far, she was loving every minute of her training.

"Well, at least you're finally here tonight! How is Aislín?"

Sybil accepted a glass of champagne from Thomas as she and Mary started to talk about their children.

Matthew addressed Tom – "I must say, you are both looking very well! London life must really suit you."

"Honestly, Matthew, we couldn't be happier. It was kind of the Crawleys to take us in for a couple of years while we got back on our feet, but this is the life we want, the live we love."

"I hear you've been making quite a stir in political circles lately. I've read a few of your articles myself actually, and I do think you're making some good points about the need for reform."

"I hope you didn't tell Robert – he'd have a fit if he saw you with a copy of the _Chronicle_!"

The friends shared a smile. They had both had to learn to deal with the Earl of Grantham and his 19th century views in their own way since they had "taken on Crawley girls", in Matthew's phrase, and it was fair to say that Tom's way had always been more confrontational than his brother-in-law's more circumspect style.

"I've been wondering whether you'd stay in London, now that the Civil War is over. Perhaps you could go back to Dublin, at last?"

"We want to, very much. Sybil will finish her studies here first and, once she qualifies in a few years, we'll move back home for good. It will be easier for her to practice there anyway – Irish hospitals are apparently more accepting of women doctors than the ones here..."

Their quiet talk was interrupted by Sybil's cousin Rose, who came bouncing over to join them, bubbling over with the excitement of her first Season.

"Come on, everyone – we're starting the card game! Oh, isn't it fun!"

"What are we playing tonight? Poker?"

Tom's face was all innocence, and no-one else knew why Sybil started blushing...

* * *

><p><em>Tom and Sybil's flat, the previous evening<em>

"Give me two, please."

Tom dealt Sybil her cards, taking one for himself. He suppressed a satisfied smile, not wanting to give his wife any clues to what he was holding.

"I'm in – how about you?"

"Yes, count me in too. I've got you this time, Tom – no doubt about it."

Her overly confident face told him, knowing her so well, that she was most likely bluffing.

"You can't fool me, darling. So, what have you got?"

She laid out her cards one by one – "A pair of kings."

He didn't say anything – he just showed his hand, which contained three sevens.

"I can't believe it – you won again!"

"What are you going to take off this time, Mrs Branson?"

At this stage of the evening, their shoes, socks and stockings already lay in a heap on the floor alongside their discarded shirts. Tom fully expected Sybil to remove her skirt next, but instead she reached behind her back and unhooked her brassiere, leaving herself naked from the waist, just as he was.

His eyes widened as she pretended he wasn't looking at her and lifted her arms above her head – "Oh, my shoulders are so stiff!" Her full, firm breasts lifted too as she stretched, and he couldn't help noticing her nipples were already hard peaks, which left him longing to touch them with his tongue...

She grinned boldly as she saw him shifting in his seat, knowing his trousers had suddenly become too tight.

"Sybil, come on, that's not fair!"

"Don't you believe in equality between the sexes, Tom? If you can sit there topless, surely I can too. Now come on, let's play."

Despite the distraction of his half-naked wife across the table, he manage to maintain enough concentration to win the next hand as well, easily beating her two pairs with a queen-high straight.

"I guess I'm just really lucky tonight, love!"

He gave her a lazy smile and watched as she got out of her chair to unbutton her skirt, leaning down to put it on the floor. She knew his eyes were riveted on her, and as she stood up again she did a quick twirl. Then, she pushed out a hip and looked back at him over her shoulder, giving him a perfect view of her shapely arse clad only in a pair of short, silky knickers.

It was Tom's turn to deal again but this time he gave himself a useless hand – not even a pair – and Sybil couldn't contain her glee when she picked up the cards she had asked for. He tried to bluff his way out of trouble, but it was no use – she could read him as easily as he could her, and she crowed with delight as she beat him soundly, revealing a full house. Once he had removed his trousers, both of them only had one item of clothing left...

"Last hand – and you know what happens to the person who loses this one, don't you?"

She reached for the cards, shuffling them expertly – "I don't need to worry about that, Tom – I'm going to be watching you lose in about three minutes."

This time, her confidence was misplaced – his hand wasn't very good, but his pair of eights was enough to beat her pair of fours.

"Branson house rules apply, Sybil..."

Sybil stood up and slid her fingers under the waistband of her knickers, teasing him as she slid them slowly down her thighs, pulling them off and twirling them on one finger before throwing them on the floor. Naked now, she stood before him, totally unselfconscious. After five years of marriage, she had total confidence in herself and her body, sure of just how much Tom adored the way she looked.

She walked round the table, swinging her hips a little, and dropped to her knees in front of him. He drew in his breath sharply as he anticipated what was about to happen. Their eyes locked as she slid her hands slowly up his thighs, reaching for his cock, which was already fully erect, and pulling it free of his underwear. She ran her hand slowly up and down his length, still staring at him.

Moving between his legs, Sybil ran her tongue along his shaft, tasting him and stopping to tease a spot just below the head that she knew he loved her to touch. Then, she opened her full lips and pushed her head down on him to draw him into her mouth. The sight of her like that almost brought Tom to orgasm immediately, and he held on as best he could as she started to move, one hand easing down into his drawers to cup and caress his balls.

Using her tongue to stroke him each time she dipped her head up and down, she took him deeper and deeper into her mouth. A low hum at the back of her throat sent tendrils of pleasure racing along every nerve in his body as, lying back in his chair, he surrendered himself to her utterly. Sensing how close he was to release, she pulled back a little, keeping just the tip of him between her lips...

"Do you want more?" she murmured.

"Oh, don't stop, darling, I'm begging you..."

She welcomed him back into her mouth, all the way this time, and it only took a few more thrusts until he felt himself losing control, shouting her name as he came.

She swallowed and stayed with him for a few more minutes before lifting her head, letting his cock fall from her mouth with a last kiss on the tip. Wiping her lips with one hand, she looked up at him and their eyes met.

"Sybil, feck, that was amazing."

"Shhh, my love – you'll wake Aislín."

Without another word, she took his hand, pulling him down onto the hearthrug with her and rolling on top of him. For Sybil and Tom, the night had only just begun...

* * *

><p>"Anything wrong, Sybil?" Edith had just joined their group and she looked with concern at her sister's flushed cheeks.<p>

"No, I'm fine, thank you Edith – it's rather warm in here, that's all."

Sybil felt her husband's eyes on her and glanced down, knowing that if she looked at him she was likely to blush again, even more deeply. After five years of marriage, he could still make her feel like a breathless teenager in love for the first time with a look, a touch, a smile...

All evening, even while she had been chatting to her family, what had happened the night before at their flat ran through her mind on an endless loop. She couldn't stop thinking about the way Tom had taken possession of her, body and soul, until the early hours of the morning. Even for them, with their passionate sex life, it had been an astonishing night of lovemaking, and she sighed as she remembered his hair falling in his face, his hand trailing up her thigh, his lips on her breast, his voice murmuring to her in Irish, his body moving over hers like a restless sea as he drove into her, again and again, so hard that when they finally stood up to go to bed just before dawn, she had realised she had a carpet burn on her back...

"Come on, let's go – they're all ready for us." Mary led the way down the corridor to the library, where tables had been set out for the evening's entertainment. The Bransons, hand in hand, brought up the rear of the party.

Sybil felt Tom pull her back and stopped to look at him, biting her lip as she finally met her husband's gaze. Their eyes locked as they fell behind the rest of the family, stealing a couple of moments alone. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him, kissing her deeply before whispering in her ear –

"I know what's on your mind, Sybil – it's all I can think about too. Let's go and join the others for a while before I take you home - and, if you want to win the game tonight, I suggest this time you bet on me."

* * *

><p><em>AN -_

Many thanks to Yankee Countess for organising the S/T Valentine Exchange on Tumblr and brainstorming some ideas for this fic with me.


	4. I sing the body electric

_Author's note -_

Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/reviewed/favourited this collection so far! I really love to hear from you - it's so inspiring. :)

Here's a new ficlet, inspired by a beautiful manip which was made for me by angiemagz, based on an image from Winter's Tale. It illustrated the post for this story on Tumblr if you'd like to see it.

This is a missing scene from the end of s2 before the CS, set early in Tom and Sybil's marriage, which belongs in my Erin go Bragh! AU. Since that collection is T-rated, I'm posting it here... ;)

* * *

><p><strong>I sing the body electric<strong>

_Dublin, 1919_

"Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,  
>Onward, the sailors cry;<br>Carry the lad who's born to be King  
>Over the sea to Skye..."<p>

Tom heard a husky voice drifting from their bedroom one evening and he followed the sound as if it were a siren song...

Sybil was naked, singing to herself as she sat before the mirror on a low stool and brushed her hair. He stayed silent in the doorway, watching her, breathless at her beauty. The next minute, he was kneeling behind her, nuzzling her neck and sliding his hands around her body to caress her breasts.

"You're late..."

She didn't finish her sentence as he spun her around to kiss her.

"Ah God, you're lovely..." he murmured, smoothing a strand of hair back from her face.

He pushed her knees apart and moved between her legs. Body flush against hers, he stared into her eyes as he ran his hands slowly down her back and let them settle at her waist, pulling her to him. Their mouths met and he kissed her again, more deeply this time, his tongue finding hers as he felt her arms around his neck. He felt himself slipping into another world, a world of the senses he had discovered with her since their marriage – a world of silken skin and hair, full lips and breasts, warm, soft, utterly intoxicating...

Travelling the line of her throat, his mouth lingered in the hollow between her collarbones before moving on. He kissed her nipples and felt them rise up at his touch as his fingers ran down the curve of her hips and along her thighs to her core –

"Sybil, God you're so wet already..."

Her sigh was deep as he laid her down on the floor of their room. He leaned up on one elbow beside her and his hand traced the path of a stream of silver moonlight which found her there. Following his hand with his lips, he kissed her breasts and stomach before putting his mouth on her core and sliding two fingers inside her. As he started to stroke her clit with his tongue, he heard her moan –

"Oh darling, yes..."

He knew her so intimately by now, knew exactly how to touch her to take her higher and higher, teasing her endlessly, pushing her to the limit. It did not take long for her breathing to become shallow, her hands tangling in his hair as he led her right to the edge and held her there. Then, when she could not hold on any more, he let her fly to the wheeling stars above, her hips bucking off the floor, her body convulsing against his mouth –

"TOM!"

Time seemed to stand still as she came, over and over again, screaming his name. He kept his mouth on her, stroking her, tasting her juices before moving back up her body. Kissing her closed eyes, tasting the tears on the lids, he wrapped his arms around her, breathing her in.

Her eyes opened slowly to meet his, but she didn't speak. Instead, her hands grasped the edge of his t-shirt, pulling it off over his head and moving her fingers down to stroke his taut abs, scratching them gently with her nails. She continued beneath his waistband to find his erect cock and her hand ran along the length of him.

"Come inside me, love. I want you inside me..."

She rolled on top, lifting his cock out of his pajamas and placing herself over him, holding her position just for a minute before pushing herself down. He felt her tight, slick core caress him as she rested her arms on either side of him, leaning down at first so that he could lift his head to kiss her breasts as they rocked back and forth together.

Moving faster now, she rose straight up above him like Venus from the waves. Closing her eyes, she bit her lip as she ground her hips into his, intent on the escalating pleasure she had learned to create with him. Her long waves of hair rippled down her body as her head fell backwards and she raised her arms towards the ceiling, reaching for the release that was now within her grasp.

Feeling himself about to come, he maintained control for a few moments longer, wanting her to get there first. His fingers moved to find her clit, still swollen from his earlier attentions, and it only took a few more caresses before she broke apart, falling down on top of him, convulsing around him and bringing him to orgasm as well.

"Oh Christ, Sybil!"

Their hearts were still racing as she moved down next to him, letting him fall from her body. He rose to his feet and bent to pick her up and carry her to their bed, kicking off his pajamas on the way.

Once there, they snuggled into each other, skin on skin, legs tangled together, trying to get closer, always closer. They both knew they would make love again at least once more than night, but what mattered most to them now was kissing, whispering, caressing, sharing the deep love and intimacy which grew stronger between them every day...

* * *

><p><em>Author's note<em>

The title of the story comes from the beautiful Walt Whitman poem of the same name - I like to imagine that, with her American heritage, Sybil has a copy of _Leaves of Grass_ on her bookshelves.


	5. Lose control

_Author's note -_

Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/reviewed/favourited this collection so far! I really love to hear from you - it's so inspiring. :)

Happy (late) St Patrick's Day, S/T fandom! Dedicating this fic to two great friends - Yankee Countess and foojules - to thank them for their help and support recently, and for their wonderful writing which I love to read.

* * *

><p><strong>Lose control<br>**

The heat is almost liquid as Sybil and Gwen walk into the Shepherd's Bush Empire for a Muse gig, tying their jackets around their waists. Music is already writhing through the room, lifting the crowd out of their everyday world, making them move as one as they celebrate St Patrick's Day and wait for the band to come on stage.

Sybil goes to the bar. The guy next to her looks at her and doesn't look away, his dirty blond hair falling into his blue eyes. There's an instant spark between them, the kind of spark you can't fake, can't hide from, one that comes from the level of their cells.

"Two bottles of Carlsberg, please."

"Coming right up."

She turns away, pretending not to notice him as she picks up the drinks, but she can still feel him looking at her and a rush of heat rises up her face. Half turning towards him, she does the "down-up-down" thing with her eyes, meeting his gaze for a fleeting moment that is more than long enough, before she turns away and walks back to Gwen.

"What took you so long?

"It's mad over by the bar. Come on, let's go down the front - they're coming on."

For the next hour or so, Sybil loses herself in the music while Matt Bellamy struts his stuff. She's jumping, dancing and singing with everyone else, sweat dripping down her back, her long braid falling apart, a huge smile on her face...

_"Hold you in my arms_  
><em> I just wanted to hold you in my arms..."<em>

"I'll be back soon!" she screams in Gwen's ear, pointing towards the back of the room. Gwen nods and turns her attention back to the band.

Sybil heads towards the back door of the auditorium in search of the bathroom. There's a queue and it takes her a while before she is on her way back inside. She pushes the main auditorium door inwards and it comes flying back at her - _What the fuck? _A man slams through it, almost barrelling straight into her, holding his hand to his forehead and apparently cursing a blue streak, although she can't understand what he's saying.

Their eyes meet and she let out a gasp_ - It's the same guy!_ She bites her lip as he sees her, tension rippling between them...

"Are you OK?"

"Sure, I'm fine, don't think I'm bleeding anyway."

"God, I'm so sorry - didn't mean to knock you over."

He didn't miss a beat. "Bit late for that - you blew me away the minute I saw you."

_"It's bugging me, grating me_  
><em> And twisting me around<em>  
><em> Yeah I'm endlessly caving in<em>  
><em> And turning inside out..."<em>

Time slows down as their eyes lock and she can barely hear the next song's driving bassline over the pounding of her blood in her ears. He touches her cheek, then moves his hand around to cup the back of her head, his stubble scraping her chin as he pulls her mouth to his.

Eyes closed, hearts racing. Their mouths are ardent, seeking to possess and to be possessed, his tongue tasting like whiskey as it slides along hers. His lips are warm and firm as he kisses her, a hot, grabby kiss, the kind of kiss she has dreamed about but never experienced before. _Kissing him matters more than breathing right now_...

He's pushing her backwards, into the dimly lit stairwell by the door. He lifts one of her hands above her head and holds it against the wall while his other hand roams down her body, from her jaw, to her collarbone, ghosting down the side of her breast, leaving a fiery trail on her skin wherever he touches her.

His knuckles graze the rough paintwork on the wall behind her as he reaches her waist and wraps his arm around her, her jacket falling unheeded to the floor. Tracing his muscles through his worn Nirvana T-shirt, her fingers slide up his arm and shoulder and behind his neck, deepening their kiss even more as she pulls him down to her.

_"Cause I want it now, I want it now_  
><em> Give me your heart and your soul<em>  
><em> And I'm breaking out, I'm breaking out<em>  
><em> Last chance to lose control..."<em>

He tears his mouth from hers, still holding her tightly, starting into her eyes.

"Christ, you're gorgeous."

It's almost a whisper and Sybil can hardly hear him, but it doesn't matter. She reaches up to him and they kiss again, even more fiercely, her hands sliding under his t-shirt, digging her nails into his back.

He breaks their kiss to pull the straps of her top off her shoulders, and she's glad she's naked underneath it, wanting even more of his touch. A moan escapes her as he kisses her throat, his mouth hot on her skin before moving down to find her breast. She can feel his knee pushing her upwards, lifting her up off the floor, and she hooks one leg up and around his hip, trying to get closer to him. _I don't even know his name, but I want him to..._

She murmurs into his ear and he lifts his head to look at her, a smile curving the corner of his mouth as she answers his unspoken question with a nod. He hitches her skirt up her thighs, pushing her knickers aside. His fingers find her core, slick and tight, and slide inside her, one finger first, then another as his thumb teases her clit and his other hand slides around to grab her arse.

A wave of sensation floods through her and she can barely believe how fast her pleasure rises. Her body is humming, sparks flying along every nerve as he strokes her, murmuring in her ear, telling her how beautiful she is, how much he wants her...

_"Ooh, you set my soul alight_  
><em> Ooh, you set my soul alight..."<em>

He finds something in his back pocket and rolls it onto his erect cock which is already rubbing against her thigh. Shifting his position slightly, he pushes into her and lets out a groan as he fills her completely. She urges him on as he drives into her, harder each time, rubbing against her clit as he moves. Her body seems to melt around the edges and blend with his. _More, faster, deeper, oh my God..._

Every touch on and in her body is beyond amazing, almost unbearable in its intensity. His face is buried in her neck and she can feel his mouth on her skin, sucking and biting her. She is helpless now, lost in the moment as she clings to him with everything she has. She feels the bricks against her naked back as they move together perfectly towards a peak she has never even imagined.

When she comes, it's like an avalanche - all consuming, unstoppable as she breaks apart again and again in his arms. He pushes her into the wall hard as he reaches his own orgasm, and his lips blindly move to find hers again. She can feel a tear falling down her cheek as the ripples gradually fade, her body still wrapped around his...

He lets her down and helps her rearrange her clothes. Somehow, his fingers on her shoulder as he gently pulls up the straps of her top feels like the most intimate touch they have shared so far. He puts his hand to her face, just as he did when it began, and their eyes meet as he pushes her tousled hair back from her cheek.

"That was so... you are the most amazing..." He fumbles to find the words.

She nods, smiling at him and reaching up to kiss him again._  
><em>

"I know - me too. Want to get out of here?"

He smiles - "Let's go..."

Taking her hand, he leads her outside and they break into a run as they hit the cold street in search of a cab...

_"I'll never let you go_  
><em> If you promise not to fade away, never fade away..."<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Two months later<br>**

"Sybil, darling, how lovely to see you! And this is..."

"It's my boyfriend Tom, Mama - I told you about him."

"Tom, ah yes, how delightful to meet you. How did you and Sybil meet?"

"I took her to a concert on our first date, Lady Grantham."

As her mother turns away for a moment to order her lunch, Sybil giggles and whispers in Tom's ear.

"Thank you for not giving her a heart attack by telling her you took me _at_ a concert before we even had our first date!"

He looks at her, lifting her hand to his mouth behind his menu and pressing a kiss into her palm. There's a promise in his eyes that she knows will be redeemed later that day, in full measure, and a shiver of pure joy runs all through her at the thought... _I never expected to fall so hard for him, I can never, never get enough...  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>Author's note<em>

The Muse song lyrics quoted (and which also gave the story its title) are from "Starlight", "Hysteria" (which has one of the best and sexiest basslines ever - very inspirational for this story!) and "Supermassive Black Hole".


	6. Birthday treat

_Author's note -_

Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/reviewed/favourited this collection so far! I really love to hear from you - it's so inspiring. :)

Keeping the S/T smut week feeling going - a little M-rated ficlet to mark the birthday of a wonderful friend and S/T shipper and writer extraordinaire, Yankee Countess. Hope you have a truly memorable day, sweetie! *hugs*.

This drabble forms part of my Erin go Bragh! AU - however, since that collection is T-rated, I'm posting it here. ;)

* * *

><p><strong>Birthday treat<strong>

Tom pushed open the door of the flat – "Sybil, where are you?"

No reply except a smothered giggle from further inside. _What is she up to?_

He walked through their small living room and across into the kitchen. Sybil was standing by the table in an apron, icing a cake, brushing a stray curl out of her eyes with a floury hand. So far, so domestic.

Except – when he looked at her more closely, he realised that the apron was _all_ she was wearing.

She looked up at him, all innocence – "Happy birthday, darling! Welcome home – I though you might enjoy a special treat."

On the last word, she winked at him and turned around casually with a packet of sugar in her hand, leaning up to put it in the cupboard and giving him an eyewatering view of her luscious behind.

He shifted uncomfortably and tugged at his tie – suddenly, he was having trouble breathing.

"See something you like?"

He let out a growl from deep in his chest, feeling a raging torrent of longing compel him towards her. Crossing the room in three strides, he pressed himself up against her back and leaned down to kiss the join between her shoulder and neck. His hands rested at her waist before moving up underneath her apron to caress her full breasts.

She let out a gasp in response, pushing herself backwards – "Oh, Tom!" – and he was fumbling for his trouser buttons, pulling his cock free and thrusting straight into her from behind. Bracing herself on the edge of the stove, she sighed and started to rock against him.

"Sybil, God, you're so wet already," Tom murmured into her ear, one hand sliding down her ripe body to tease her clit.

"Well, I've been thinking about you all afternoon, Tom, and I was thinking something rather naughty… _ohhhhh_…"

Sybil moaned and reached up a hand behind her, resting it on the back of his neck, letting her head fall down onto his shoulder. He drove into her, faster, deeper, his hips and hers in perfect rhythm, a rhythm well practised since their marriage, a rhythm which was always new and exciting every time they were together.

His fingers stroked her clit and her nipples as they moved. Seeing and hearing her pleasure build – her cheeks flushed, her breath ragged, her eyes closed – he knew she wasn't far from her peak.

"Come on Sybil, come for me darling," he whispered in Irish, pushing her harder, taking her higher, until her body tensed and released again and again, convulsing around him as she tumbled into oblivion. She screamed his name, falling forward and grabbing the edge of the stove.

He couldn't hold on any more, his own orgasm rocketing through him like an express train, unstoppable. Wrapping his arms around her waist, heart racing, kissing her shoulders and neck, he held her until they both came back down.

Then, he turned her around and looked into her eyes. He ran his hand over her swollen belly, smiling – "Where's Aislín tonight, love?"

"Well, I wanted a bit of 'us' time before the new baby comes, so your mother is looking after her tonight."

"All night?"

Sybil nodded, dropping her eyes and biting her bottom lip seductively. Then she took Tom's hand and led him over to the kitchen table. Pushing him into the chair, she turned her back to him, asking him to untie the apron and letting it fall as she sat down in his lap.

A joyful smile crossed her face – "Tom, oh feel this!" – as she grabbed his hand in her own and let him feel the flutter and tremble of their child's movements beneath her skin. He closed his eyes to savour one of life's perfect moments – his beautiful wife, naked and pregnant in his arms, and their growing baby kicking within her.

Then, opening his eyes, he saw her smiling at him, eyes starry with unshed tears. He put his hand to her cheek as he kissed her deeply, holding her in the crook of his arm as his fingers trailled down her throat to find her breasts, playing with her nipples gently and hearing her moan into his mouth.

"What's your birthday wish, darling?" she said when their kiss finally broke, leaning forward to light the candles on the cake.

"For this moment to last forever, Sybil – I can't believe how lucky I am, to be here, with you, like this." He took her hand, pressing a kiss into the palm.

"Tom, I'll be here forever, with you, loving you, just the way I am now, I promise."

"Me too, darling, always."

He smiled and rested his forehead against hers, tightening his arms around her. They sat for a while, just breathing each other in and watching the candles slowly burn down.


	7. Shimmer

_Author's note -_

Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/reviewed/favourited this collection so far! I really love to hear from you - it's so inspiring.

Sometimes, only plotless S/T smut will do - I regret nothing! ;)

* * *

><p><strong>Shimmer<strong>

"Love? Have you seen my new shirt?"

"Mmm, what was that?" Tom appears around the cupboard door, his eyes lighting up with a gleam she knows only too well.

"I'm trying to find my new navy shirt... hmm, what's on your mind, Mr Branson? Don't answer that..."

Sybil winks at him, noticing how he can't take his eyes off her. Specifically, her underwear, which is also new.

"You didn't tell me you bought those too ... as a good Catholic boy, all I can do is beg for mercy!"

She gives him a little twirl, but only makes it half way around before he grabs her from behind, his lips dropping to her shoulder. Kissing his way up to her earlobe, he bites it as his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her into him.

Her knees start to buckle as the eternal maelstrom of desire between them swirls up and overflows. One moment of hesitation – _he's going to make me late again!_ – and she gives herself up to it.

They stumble towards the bed, falling so that she lands on her back. He moves on top of her and their mouths come together in rough, biting kisses. Shivering in anticipation, she feels his fingers travel down from her throat and run along the edges of the lacy cups of her bra, then underneath. Her nipples rise at his touch, and there's an uncoiling deep in her belly.

He lifts himself and looks down at her, quirking an eyebrow. "Sybil, where did you get these? I'm torn between looking at you wearing them and ripping them off you."

"Let's leave them on for a little while – I bought them for you, I knew you'd like them."

_"__Like them?"_ A growl escapes him as his fingers smooth down her stomach to touch the waistband of her boyleg knickers. "What colour would you call this?"

"Well, the shop called it lavender..."

"Whatever it is, it's fucking gorgeous. Correction – you are fucking gorgeous."

She rolls them over and sits up on top of him, her hair falling around her shoulders, a mermaid escaping the ocean. Leaning to kiss his neck, she slowly moves down his chest, her tongue lingering on his nipples, her fingernails scratching him through the fair hair on his chest.

She hears him groan as she moves lower, licking the engraved lines of his abs as if they were blocks of Belgian chocolate, and then still further down to the towel wrapped around his hips. She pulls it loose, letting his erect cock rise up. Kissing its tip, she runs her fingers up and down its length, while she cups his balls with her other hand.

As she slides him between her lips and starts to move up and down, he grabs her head, fingers tangling in her hair. She rises and falls over him, taking his cock more deeply into her mouth with each stroke, running her tongue along him, her hands mimicking the movements of her mouth to intensify the sensations even more.

Before they met, she had never really enjoyed going down on her boyfriends – it had been a chore, an occasional favour. But with him she has come to relish it. Taking him in her mouth, so hard, so warm, so alive, it feels like another way of knowing him, loving him, and she adores the feeling of giving him so much pleasure.

"Sybil, ah Christ, don't stop," he rasps, his voice flinty. She can feel he is close, and a low hum at the back of her throat, which she knows will vibrate through his whole body, is enough to send him into oblivion. His hips buck off the bed, his cock spurting into her mouth, and she holds him until he's done.

Sybil's head rests on Tom's stomach as his breathing returns to normal. She lets him fall from her lips, moving up the bed, and he grabs her, pulling her flush against him. Their lips meet, scalding kisses that leave her breathless. Reaching behind her back, he finds the clasp of her bra and pulls it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

His mouth moves to her breasts and soon he's pressing burning kisses into her skin, lingering on their cloud soft undersides, a secret part of her that she keeps only for him.

Pushing her over onto her stomach, he lifts her up on her hands and knees. He fumbles in the bedside table for a condom before moving behind her, sliding her knickers down past her hips and off.

Feeling him push so hard into her, she gasps, loving the way he fills her so completely.

"Sybil, oh God, you're so tight, love."

Sometimes they like to linger over each other's bodies, savouring each touch, each glance, each tremor of delight as they make love for hours. This is not one of those times. Only fierce, primal fucking will do.

He thrusts, fast and deep, forcing her back up the bed. The bedsprings are creaking and she grabs the headboard, bracing herself, hair tossing as she arches her back and pushes against him as hard as she can. It's a cadence between them that they know well, as wild as a storm at sea, and they abandon themselves to it utterly.

As he drives into her, over and over, he's grabbing her hip with one hand to keep her steady. His other hand slides up her inner thigh, only grazing over her clit briefly before pulling away. He repeats the movement, taunting her beyond endurance, and she is moaning, begging for more, barely able to recognise herself.

"Tom, please, oh please darling..."

Her body trembles around him as his fingers start to tease and caress her clit with focused attention, a touch he knows she can't withstand even if she wants to. She's wracked with an ecstasy so overwhelming she can hardly bear it, spiralling upwards like a mote of dust caught in the warm breeze coming in through the window. Her core convulses around him, a stream of orgasms that seems endless.

They fall forward onto the bed, still entwined, their sweat cooling on their skins, and she hears him cry out as he reaches his own release. All thought leaves her mind as she revels in the feeling of his weight on top of her, his cock still inside her.

After several minutes, they pull apart enough for her to roll over again. She feels his arms come around her as she breathes him in, wanting to drown in him. His fingers ghost over her curves, feather light, from her hip, to her waist, across her stomach and up to her breasts, then down to start the movement again. He's soothing her like a half wild animal, her skin thrilling at his touch. Hot, sweet kisses between them stoke the fire between Sybil's legs all over again.

She knows they have to go, but she keeps kissing him, touching him, pressing herself against him for as long as she can. In the end, it's Tom who breaks the speaking silence between them, reluctantly tearing his lips from hers.

"Sybil, we really have to get up now – we're both so late already."

She nods, dropping her eyes, and he puts his finger under her chin to lift her face back up to his for a last kiss. She clings to him, not wanting to let him go, and she knows that he feels the same way. That gives her the strength she needs to roll away from him and get out of bed.

They shower and get dressed quickly, apart, avoiding each other's eyes, knowing that all it would take would be one glance and they'd be back where they started. Once they are ready, he takes her hand and leads her to the door of their flat. Opening it, he pushes her against the frame for a goodbye kiss that turns into another, then another.

Her leg hooks around his hip, her head is starting to spin as it falls back. She feels his teeth grazing her neck, his hands on her arse, lifting her off her feet. Both of them know that if anyone climbed the stairs, they could see everything, but somehow neither of them cares.

It's hopeless. "We better call in sick, sweetheart, there's no way we're going in today. Now ... come here to me."

He picks her up, stepping back inside the flat, and kicks the door shut. He lays her down on the floor of their living room, his hands running up her legs to lift the hem of her skirt to her hips, and their sunlit dance begins again.


	8. Above and beyond

_Author's note -_

Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/reviewed/favourited this collection so far! I really love to hear from you - it's so inspiring. :)

This M-rated S/T story was originally published on Tumblr a while ago and I wanted to bring it over here to mark S/T smut weekend. I just _had_ to write this one – the idea got into my brain and I could not stop thinking about it! It's a bit out there, in every sense of the word.

The year is 2250. The spaceship _Daedalus _is on its most important mission yet, to the red planet of Mars. On board is Sybil Crawley, a rookie lieutenant in the space corps, ambitious for promotion and focused totally on her work, until she encounters the ship's brilliant young technical lead, Tom Branson, and things start to change_..._

* * *

><p><strong>Above and beyond<strong>

"What the hell are you doing, Branson? Didn't I say I wanted the hydrometer ready for me by 0800 sharp? How hard is it for you to understand a simple fucking instruction?"

Sybil Crawley felt her temper rising – there was something about this laid back, scruffy Irishman that really got under her skin, and she wasn't sure what it was. He lifted his eyes lazily and gave her that "up and down" look that always drove her mad.

"So sorry for the inconvenience, _Lieutenant_ Crawley," Tom said, with a carefully judged trace of piss taking in his tone that she could sense, without it being concrete enough for her to be able to pull him up for insubordination, as she longed to do. "I'll have it ready for you in another ten minutes. Do you want to wait, or will you come back in a bit?"

"I'll wait – God knows I can't risk you screwing anything else up!" She pushed her hands against the wall of the spacecraft and floated to the opposite side of the room. _For fuck's sake_, _if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. You should know that by now!_

Glowering, she watched him tinkering with the delicate apparatus from his almost horizontal position – one hand held a fine pair of pliers, while the other hand gently coaxed a cog into motion. A random thought crossed her mind as she found herself drifting in a slightly dreamy state, watching him work – _He knows how to use his hands._ He had his shirt off in the warmth of the room, and she could see sweat gleaming on his skin, defining his perfectly cut abs and chest. _Let alone his arms..._

Sybil pulled herself up short – maybe she didn't get enough sleep last night because of the headaches she was prone to during long space voyages? There was no other reason she could see why she was having these ridiculous thoughts about a man she really couldn't stand.

"OK, it's all ready. Want me to set it up for you?"

"Yes, and be quick about it. I've wasted enough bloody time already today, thanks to your incompetence."

Tom grinned – nothing seemed to ruffle his good spirits. "Come over here and I'll get you up and running in no time."

She pushed off again and almost cannoned into him, which made her blush and drop her eyes. _Get a grip, Sybil – you are behaving like a silly schoolgirl with a crush._ As that last word came unbidden into her mind, she thought again – _Crush? That is fucking absurd._

All business, she positioned herself in front of the instrument, an impatient look on her face. "Can we get started?"

He surprised her by reaching towards the machine from behind her, his hands caressing the dials. "See? You need to zero these out before you get started. Otherwise, your data will be all fucked up."

She couldn't look away as his strong, flexible fingers tuned the hydrometer perfectly for her experiment, his hot breath fanning her neck. Sensing his strong, muscular body close behind her, she felt as if she was about to faint from her sudden, overwhelming desire for him. At that moment, one hand stopped on her shoulder briefly on its way to the instrument panel, and she couldn't help letting out a gasp at his touch.

"Anything wrong, Lieutenant?" She turned towards him and as she saw his face she realised he knew what was going on.

* * *

><p><em>About fecking time,<em> Tom thought. He had been crazy about Sybil Crawley from the first moment he had laid eyes on her, on the bridge of the spacecraft, eyes flashing blue fire and sexy as all get out as she tore into a cringing corporal who'd had the misfortune to fail to complete his assigned task fast enough. Before today, he'd been starting to think he'd never get anywhere with her apart from being on the receiving end of a stinging rebuke.

The next moment, his mouth crashed bruisingly onto hers, and his arms grasped her tightly to prevent her from floating away from him. She pretended to push him off, but they both knew this was just for show now – she was as desperate for him as he was for her. His tongue pushed its way into her mouth and he let out a deep groan as she closed her eyes and tightened her arms around his neck.

"Oh God, Sybil, I want you so fecking much," he murmured in her ear when their kiss broke.

In answer, she reached for the zippered fastening of her spacesuit, and he held his breath as she slowly pulled it off her shoulders, leaving most of her skin bare apart from a perfectly fitting white sports bra. She wriggled out of the rest of the spacesuit, letting it float away, and pulled away from him just slightly to allow him to unbutton his jeans (being technical staff, he didn't wear a uniform) and slide them down his legs, leaving him with nothing on but a pair of boxer briefs. They were floating now, just a foot apart, as she reached out to him again.

"Fuck me Tom, I want you to fuck me so hard, that's an order!" Sybil whispered as she pulled him closer to her.

"Yes, ma'am!" Tom replied, undoing her bra quickly to free her full, firm breasts. He dropped his mouth to her nipple which was already achingly erect from his touch, while keeping the other arm around her to keep her close to him. She pushed them off the wall to move them to a horizontal position and floated above him, her hands reaching for his boxers and pulling them off in one swift motion.

All that lay between them were her white cotton knickers. He took his time now, sliding his fingers inside them with his other arm still around her, finding her clit which was swollen and wet and starting to tease it, watching her eyes roll back in her head as she writhed and moaned, knowing exactly how to touch her.

Soon, she was begging him – "Oh Christ, please Tom, please" – and he knew what she wanted him to do.

He finally tugged her knickers off and pushed himself away from the counter below them to get even closer to her, his erect cock brushing against her thighs and finding its way into her tight, slick core. They were touching everywhere now, skin on skin, her breasts pushing against his chest. Her hands were on his back, one digging sharp nails into his flesh while the other one slid down towards his arse, holding on tightly.

Knowing they had nothing to push against but each other, they ground their hips in perfect rhythm as they worked together to drive his cock into her again and again, moving harder and faster with each thrust. His arm was firmly around her waist while the other hand was between them, stroking and caressing her clit, and he nipped at her throat and collarbone with his lips and teeth as he felt her start to tremble.

Tom urged her on – "Sybil, do you know how hot you are? God, I could stay inside you for the rest of my life, you are so incredible. Come for me, Sybil, come for me." His voice seemed to be the trigger Sybil needed and, as she let out an inarticulate scream, he felt every muscle in her body clamp down on him as her orgasm ripped through her.

Throwing his head back, he came like he had never come before, his body exploding into a million tiny pieces and rocketing to every corner of the room at the speed of light. "Feck, feck – Sybil!" he shouted and then felt her head collapse onto his shoulder, her arms and legs clinging to him with all her might.

They were silent then, letting their ragged breathing return to normal, as he pushed his hand into her long hair which had come loose, and pulled her face towards him for a kiss, which deepened quickly as they floated free in the darkened room.

Eventually they broke apart, Sybil sighing as Tom pulled out of her, and he missed the feel of her straight away. Her beautiful, naked body was glowing in the unearthly light of the instruments, and any intelligence he possessed simply drained away at the sight of her. Feeling his cock twitch, he reached for her again.

"I don't suppose that..."

"All crew to B deck, all crew to B deck," came the blaring announcement over the speaker.

He heard it and shivered slightly, trying to clear his head after the cataclysm of sensations he had just been through. Looking at her as they pulled on their clothes haphazardly, he could see she was feeling the same way he did. She twisted her dark hair back into a ponytail, restoring the Lieutenant Crawley who had come undone so completely in his arms a few minutes before.

"Branson, meet me in the galley at 0200 tomorrow – otherwise I'll put you on report." She gave him a ghost of a wink, pushing herself towards the door and floating out into the corridor, leaving him alone to ponder what had just happened.

Tom could not believe he had at last fulfilled the secret fantasy he had held about Sybil for months. He grinned, knowing there was nothing in the universe that would stop him from meeting her the next morning and picking up from where they had left off.


	9. Every waking minute

_Author's note -_

Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/reviewed/favourited this collection so far! I really love to hear from you - it's so inspiring. :)

This M-rated S/T ficlet is dedicated to a good friend (and talented author) mimijag, who has had a bad week or two, because I wanted to make her smile. It's set in my Erin go Bragh! AU but, since that collection is T-rated, I'm posting it here.

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><p><strong>Every waking minute<br>**

_Dublin, 1925_

Even after half a dozen years of marriage, Tom still sometimes wakes up wondering what he has done to deserve the great gift of finding Sybil beside him. This morning is one of those times. He looks at her, closes his eyes and takes a breath – _yes, it's real, I'm here and so is she._

He gets up, leaving her asleep – cheeks rosy, dark curls tousled, face pillowed on her hands like a child – and goes to make some tea and clean up last night's half-eaten meal. They are usually pretty good at tidying the flat each evening before bed. Two lively children about the place means that there is never too much of a wait until toys are flung on the floor, or food is spilt on the table, so they like to stay ahead of the chaos as much as they can. But last night they'd had other things on their mind more important than dinner or the state of the kitchen. Things they'd been doing for half the night, things he can't get out of his mind even now.

When he returns, he sets the tray down and sits beside her. She senses his presence in her sleep and opens her eyes.

"Good morning, mo ghile."

"Mmm, hello, is it morning already? Oh, tea, how lovely. You are good to me, sweetheart, thank you."

She lifts herself up the bed and rests against the pillow, her heavy belly making her movements slow. The covers fall to her waist as she sips her tea, revealing her naked body to him quite naturally.

He can't help staring at her in adoration like a schoolboy with his first crush, remembering the way she came to him last night – like a playful kitten, all bites and scratches, purring in bliss as he entered her, her skin warm and soft under his. His hand goes up to touch the place on his neck where she made her mark. _The boys will give me hell about that at work tomorrow!_

She sees where his fingers and eyes are lingering and a smile curves her lips as she puts down her cup. "When are they due back?"

"Finbarr will drop them round sometime after ten, on the way home from Mass."

"And what's the time now?"

"Maybe half eight..."

She picks up his hand, lifting it to her mouth and kissing his fingers one by one. "Well, since we won't be disturbed for a while..."

No need for her to finish her sentence – he knows that look of hers by now. He quirks an eyebrow at her. "There's definitely something about you and those pregnancy hormones, love."

"This is our third child. You should be used to it."

"No arguments here!" He takes off his pyjamas and climbs back into bed, settling where he can embrace her from behind.

Sybil grabs Tom's hand and presses it to her body so he can feel their baby kicking like a football champion. "I think we're having another boy. Michael was just like this, never giving me a moment's peace!"

"Just like his father..." he murmurs into her neck, his other hand stroking her breasts and bringing her nipples to hard peaks.

"Ah, but I never wanted his father to... ohhh, that's good, do that again."

The faint perfume of her skin, part lilac skin cream, part something that is just _her_, inflames his senses as it always does. His erection is already pushing into her back as she presses herself against him.

He pulls her legs further apart and runs his finger along her slit.

"You're so wet, love."

"It's your fault... mmmm, more please..."

He slides his fingers in to find her clit, which is swollen and trembling. It takes only a few skilful strokes to bring her to orgasm, her body opening like a flower caressed by the rays of the sun. Then, he thrusts himself inside her, just as the waves begin to recede, and she comes again.

The way he starts driving into her, hard and fast, will bring him to his own peak sooner than he wants. He needs to take her with him. Even his orgasm isn't as good if he doesn't share it with her.

His movements slow, and she begins to moan and writhe in his arms as he holds her tight against him. He holds himself back, focusing entirely on her, stroking every part of her, her breasts, her belly, her thighs, murmuring in her ear in Irish, sucking the spot on her neck he knows drives her crazy.

Her head drops backwards and he sees her eyelids flutter closed. He's relentless now, knowing how close she is.

"Sybil, come on darling, come for me..."

Her core squeezes him on all sides as she screams his name. That's all he needs to fly into the abyss himself.

Her heartbeat is still racing as she turns to him, covering his mouth with her own. His tongue slides along hers to deepen the kiss which matters more than breath, his body moving naturally to accommodate the swell of their child between them.

When they finally pull apart, she looks at him, and he can see a tear gleaming behind her eye. She brushes his fringe back from his face.

"Tom, how can I be so lucky, the way... Do you know how lucky we are?"

He does know. From gossip at work and at the pub, he knows that what they have is different from most other marriages, where wives of long standing grit their teeth through the weekly lovemaking as if it were a chore as onerous as laundry.

But for them, familiarity only fans the flame. Every day, they learn more about each other's bodies, their hidden pleasures, their secret desires. As a result, they're even more eager for each other now than when they fell in love, exchanging looks as intense as kisses in the garage at Downton Abbey.

Tom sees the clock out of the corner of his eye. "We'd better get up – they'll be back before you know it."

She pouts, a pout he can't resist kissing. Five minutes later, slipping past the boundary between tender and insatiable so fast he barely realises it's happening, he's turning her over onto her hands and knees and pushing his cock into her again.

One hand's resting on the sheet so he can hold himself above her, the other's at the base of her belly, stroking her clit over and over. She arches back against him as hard as she can, bracing herself against the head of the bed.

They're fierce, almost rough with each other now – it's _fucking_ this time, raw and elemental, and it's amazing. His brain ceases functioning on any rational level as he gives himself up to it._  
><em>

The whirr of the doorbell pierces the swirl of sex that envelops them. She moans, sweat gleaming in the curve of her back.

"Don't stop, don't stop..." she begs.

"What if I..." He rolls his hips just so, and they both tumble over the edge. He falls on top of her, skin cleaving to hers, and they roll over together into a tight embrace. _I can't ever get close enough..._

He knows he needs to stand up, get out of bed, return to his role as respectable father and journalist, but in that moment all he can be is her lover, thinking only of her and what he can give her.

Laying her gently on her back, he leans down to kiss her breasts, first one, then the other. She tastes so good he can't stop, doesn't want to. He moves his mouth down to her belly, the skin there rippling with a pair of tiny feet racing beneath it.

Just as his hand slips between her legs, there's another ring, double this time. Finbarr's getting impatient – it's not the first time he's been kept waiting when dropping their children back on a Sunday morning.

Tom reluctantly moves, rolling out of bed and putting his robe on any which way. "You stay there, love, and rest... I'll deal with them."

The look Sybil gives him is a mixture of love and longing, a look so powerful he has to restrain himself physically from falling back into bed with her and starting up again. He turns away, resolutely, and closes the door to give her some time.

"Coming, coming, hold your horses!"

He opens the door, to find his brother grinning. "Lost your comb, mo dheartháir?"

He puts his hand to his head and realises how messy his hair is. He knows nothing will be said in front of the children, but it couldn't be clearer that Finbarr is well aware of why he's taken so long to answer the doorbell.

Aislín and Michael come racing inside and crash into him, each one grabbing a leg.

"Da, Da, we played with Eamonn and Aoife, they have a new..."

"Da, Da, we had roast lamb for dinner, and treacle tart, and..."

"One at a time, darlings, one at a time!" He leans down to kiss them both.

"Where's Mam? I want to tell her about..." Aislín is already running ahead of him to open the bedroom door.

Sybil's sitting up, wrapped in her robe. Their daughter runs over to her, closely followed by Michael, who bounces onto the bed and scrambles into his mother's arms.

"Mam, it's me, I'm home. Did you miss me?"

She drops a kiss onto the top of his head. "So much, sweetheart, I can't tell you. You too, Aislín," she says as the girl slides into her mother's embrace.

As Tom looks at his wife, listening intently to the children chattering non-stop about their adventures with their cousins, he feels a lump in his throat as he remembers the words Sybil said to him earlier that morning.

_Do you know how lucky we are?_

He renews the vow he makes to himself every day, to strive to be worthy of her love, never to take for granted the joy of the life he shares with her. Then, he walks over to join his family.

* * *

><p>AN -

"mo ghile" = my darling, "mo dheartháir" = my brother in Irish Gaelic, per Google translate


	10. Tender like the evening star

_Author's note -_

Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/reviewed/favourited this collection so far! I really love to hear from you - it's so inspiring. :)

This M-rated S/T ficlet was written to celebrate the '12 days of S/T smut', an impromptu festival on Tumblr. It's set in the same Australian AU as the first story in this collection.

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><p><strong>Tender like the evening star<strong>

A sultry breeze was rippling across Tom's body as he woke, sometime in the hours before dawn. He reached out his hands, opening his eyes when he didn't find what he was seeking. Then, he looked over to the open window.

Leaning against the frame, staring out at the night sky, was a naked woman. Face illuminated by the moonlight, she looked like a goddess. A figure from a dream he didn't want to wake up from.

They'd come together more than once that night already – the first time fierce and wild, the second dreamier, more intimate. Looking at Sybil now, running his finger along a scratch her nails had made on his neck, he felt the need to possess her again. But this time he wanted something different – slow, deliberate, keeping control, taking her to breaking point and beyond.

He stood and came up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist, pressing his lips to the place where her neck met her shoulder.

"Looking for something?"

She turned around to face him. "You."

They kissed, deeply, slowly, her hands moving around the back of his neck. He bent her back a little so he could bring her even closer to him. The feeling of her bare skin gliding over his made sparks run along every nerve in his body.

"It's so hot tonight - the air feels like a blanket." She lifted her hand to her face in a fanning motion.

"I've got an idea. Just a sec."

He went to the little fridge in the corner to get what he needed, returning to find her waiting for him in bed.

Laid out in splendour, she was all silk-soft skin, tangled waves of midnight-dark hair, lush curves of breast and hip. He could have stared at her all night. But he had other plans for her that involved more than just looking.

Tom came back to the bed and sat down on the edge, then leaned towards Sybil.

A gasp escaped her as he touched her lips with an ice cube and her tongue came out to try and lick it. He held it just out of reach, letting a couple of droplets of water fall into her mouth as the ice cube began to melt in his fingers, and she leaned up to try and taste more of it.

"Lie still, close your eyes."

"Whatever you say."

She wriggled into a more comfortable position, her head settling into the pillow. Then, he traced the ice cube over her chin to her throat, leaving an icy trail along her collarbones.

Moving down her body, he teased her by touching the ice cube to the tip of one nipple, then the other.

"More, please…"

"When I say so."

He drew a circle around her left nipple, watching it tighten and harden still further in the dim light. The next circles were wider, tracing over the smooth skin of her breast. As he repeated the process with her other breast, she moaned, and he smiled as she strained her body upwards, blindly seeking the source of her pleasure.

"You like that, don't you?"

"Yes, oh, yes."

"Be good, and I might give you some more."

"I promise..."

The first ice cube had melted away, so he took a second one. He trailed it down towards her stomach, dipping into her navel, moving across her stomach from hip to hip, leaving a scattered path of liquid in its wake.

Pulling her legs apart, he slid the ice cube down to her thigh, then back up towards her centre.

"Do you want it?"

"Yes, please, give it to me."

He pushed it inside her, and she shivered in delight. Another gasp broke from her as he slid it up further, until his two fingers were buried deep.

Then he reached for another ice cube and dipped it into her to pick up her juices. Lifting it to his mouth, he licked it.

"Mmm, that tastes good. Here..."

He put the ice cube to her lips and she sucked greedily on it. It followed the other one all the way inside her.

_Now she's ready..._

Tom moved down between Sybil's legs, pushing them further apart as he settled onto the bed. He could feel his stubble rubbing against the tender skin of her thighs, which seemed to excite her even more.

"Closer, more, oh God..."

The texture of her soft, pink folds was exquisite when he put his mouth on her. He traced them with his tongue again and again, just brushing against her clit but never fully touching it.

Her centre was warm as he pushed his tongue inside her, the coolness of the ice cubes lost in the quick heat of her arousal. Hearing her whisper his name, he grabbed her arse and buried his face in her.

Only then did he taste her clit fully, circling and flicking her, making a curving pattern with his tongue that made her come almost immediately, as he knew it would. But that was just the beginning. He lifted her legs even further over his broad shoulders, sucking her clit into his mouth as he slid two fingers inside her.

_More, more, more._ Each orgasm came harder on the heels of the last one, each one sent her body reeling. His tongue and fingers teased her relentlessly, stroking her into a frenzy, taking her over the edge again and again. She was writhing uncontrollably, tangling her hands in his hair. Her husky voice could only manage one word.

"Please..."

Finally, he lifted his head and moved back up above her. Grabbing a condom from the bedside table, he rolled it onto his erect cock. Without a word, he slid inside her, up to the hilt.

"Oh God, sweetheart, that's incredible," he murmured.

Tom lifted Sybil's hips, propping them up with a pillow, letting him drive even more deeply into her. She was so tight, so wet, the walls of her centre clinging to him and pulling him in.

Leaning above her with one hand as he began to move, he bent his head to capture her left nipple, then her right, with his lips. With each thrust, his body pressed against her swollen clit, bringing her to the brink again.

Looking down at her, he could see she was lost, lost in him and the feelings he was creating in her. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, her body trembling. She was utterly trusting as she gave herself up to him completely, and that made her the sexiest sight he had ever seen.

He tried to keep control, but it soon became impossible. As he sank into her again and again, faster, harder each time, he found his own orgasm racing towards him like an express train, one he couldn't stop even if he wanted to.

"Oh fuck, holy FUCK!"

His back arched and he threw his head back as he came, bellowing like an animal, stars bursting behind his eyelids. Beneath him, she bucked and screamed, her fists tangled in the sheets, her legs tight around his hips.

"AHHHHHH! Oh TOM!"

He collapsed onto her, his mouth blindly seeking hers. Their kiss held as their heartbeats slowed, their breath returned to normal. Rolling down beside her, he took her in his arms, watching her as she opened her eyes.

"God, you're amazing." Their eyes met and locked, and she lifted her hand to run it through his hair, brushing back his fringe.

"Just as well you married me then, isn't it, Mr Branson?"

"Sure and it is, Mrs Branson." He exaggerated his accent slightly, knowing the effect it would have on her.

"Ohh, say that again." Her eyes were starry with unshed tears.

"Mrs Branson." He leaned over to kiss her tenderly. "My _wife_." Another kiss, deeper than the first, as his hand stroked gently up from her waist to her breasts.

When they broke apart, they stared at each other for a long moment.

"I still can't believe we eloped!"

Tom smiled. "My mother will go spare when I tell her I married someone I met three weeks ago."

"Mine too - my whole family will, actually. At least they have that in common!"

She pulled him towards her for a kiss, her breath catching in her throat as his fingers lingered on her nipple.

"I don't care what anyone thinks, Tom. I knew as soon as I met you - I just _knew_."

"Knew what?" He dipped his head to the space between her collarbones, nipping the soft skin there gently.

Sybil rested her hand on the back of his head, bringing him closer. "That I would not give you up."

* * *

><p>AN -

The title of the story comes from a beautiful poem by Rumi, the 13th century Persian poet and mystic.

"I was dead, then alive.  
>Weeping, then laughing.<p>

The power of love came into me,  
>and I became fierce like a lion,<br>then tender like the evening star."

Doesn't that give you Sybil x Tom feels? *le sigh*


	11. Burn for you

Author's note

I'm back! Those of you who follow me on Tumblr will know things have been a bit busy lately, which has meant it's been a while since my last update. I'm working on being a bit more organised with my writing now I am back at work, so I hope it won't be so long next time before I add to this collection again.

I'm dedicating this fic to the lovely and talented Yankee Countess, as a belated birthday present - hope you enjoy it, sweetie! It was inspired by a prompt from the Imagine your OTP blog on Tumblr:

_Imagine person A of your OTP is trying to do something while person B is giving them playful little kisses and bites down their neck and touching them teasingly._

Let me know what you think! I always love to hear from you. :)

* * *

><p>"... and then Mary... Oh, I know, I said the same thing..."<p>

Sybil heard the key turn in the lock – _My darling is home!_ – and smiled into the phone as she listened to her mother complaining about her sister's upcoming wedding, and how difficult the bride-to-be was being (according to Cora) about every little detail.

"Yes, Mama, I already told... What did Papa do?"

As she nodded and rolled her eyes a little, Tom took her by surprise, sneaking up behind her and putting his arms around her waist. She could see the bright sparkle of frost on the sleeves of his coat, which he'd brought in with him from the wintry night outside.

He pulled her towards him and kissed the back of her neck, and the coldness of him sent a shiver down her spine. Unable to help herself, she let out a gasp, before she remembered her mother was still on the line.

"Sybil, dear – are you all right?"

"Yes, Mama, I'm fine. It's nothing, really."

Sybil felt Tom's mouth curve into a smile against her skin as he moved to start kissing the side of her neck, finding that little hollow below her ear that he knew drove her crazy.

His hands reached around and began to undo the buttons of her uniform, and his icy touch on her warm body was thrilling. She moaned a little as his fingers slid inside her bra to find her nipples.

"Now really Sybil, I'm concerned. You don't sound well at all..."

"Mama, please, don't. I'm fine, there's nothing wrong. It's just cold in London tonight..."

Tom began to stroke her breasts, pulling down the lacy cups of her bra. Then, he bit the side of her neck, once, then again, kissing the place he had marked.

"God, oh... _fuck..._" she murmured.

"Sybil! Language, please, dear."

Sybil pulled the phone away from her ear and hissed – "For Christ's sake, Tom, I'm on with Mama..."

"And I'm on with _you..._" he replied cheekily, biting her neck in the same place, then soothing it with a kiss. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she felt her knees tremble as his fingers kept up their practiced caressing of her breasts.

"I'm sorry, Mama. I have to go, there's someone... _at the door_..." She almost squeaked the last few words, before pressing the End Call button.

_I'll have to call her tomorrow to apologise. Bloody Tom, he thinks he can just..._

She turned around in his arms, and Tom took the chance to slide the top of her uniform off her shoulders and undo her bra.

"Tom, you... well, you know what you are!"

_It's not easy to be dignified while I'm standing here half naked. But then again... oh God, he's so cute!_

"I am sorry, Lady Sybil," he growled, quirking an eyebrow at her. "I guess that's what happens when you invite a scoundrel like myself to move in with you after such a short acquaintance."

Sybil tried to resist him, but her body betrayed her. A grin crossed his face as he heard her ragged breath, saw her cheeks flush. She made one more effort to retain control, to ignore the effect that the Han Solo reference he'd made on purpose was having on her.

"OK, you so-called boyfriend, I've had just about enough..."

"Ah, go on, sure and you can't stay mad with me, can you?" His accent was exaggerated, and his voice was rougher and darker than usual. Both of which she also knew to be deliberate. Almost in spite of herself, she smiled.

_How can he know me so well already?_

His arms tightened around her. "Come here to me, nurse Crawley."

The next thing she knew, she was pressing herself against him. Kissing him, long and deep, his freezing lips quickly warming under hers. Feeling that familiar drop and twist in her belly as she breathed him in. Closing her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

The woollen fabric of his coat scratching across her erect nipples was almost unbearably arousing and she found herself rubbing against him like a cat, longing for more of his touch.

"Tom, please…"

He was kissing her neck again now, teasing and tasting her with his tongue, leaving her tingling all over. His hands stroked slowly up and down her bare back, then slid further down to push her uniform over her hips.

As she wriggled to let it fall to the floor, she was left wearing nothing but her knickers. It made her feel free, _wild_, to be standing there in the middle of the living room like that, the pale moonlight slanting in through the window and painting her skin with streaks of silver. That was one of the things she loved about him so much – the way he made her feel more herself than she'd ever been before.

Tom stepped away from her a little and looked at her. The passionate adoration in his eyes was almost too much to bear and she looked down, suddenly shy.

"Sweetheart, don't. Look at me, look at me. You're so fecking beautiful, I..."

Sybil lifted her head and her glance locked with his. The spark that leapt between them was almost visible, the charge pulling them together was overwhelming.

She didn't even try to resist it.

He grabbed her and kissed her, scooping her up in his arms as he did so, then laying her down on the floor. Stretching out beside her, he leaned up on one elbow, leaving his other hand free to trail along her body with unbearable slowness.

"Grá mianach... I love to touch you like this, I could do it for the rest of my life."

His fingers traced around her breasts, brushing over them with a feather-light touch, before moving down to rest on her belly. His lips followed his hands and soon she was arching herself up against his mouth as he sucked and bit her nipples, winding her fingers through his hair to pull him closer.

"Oh God that's incredible, more, more..."

Even through the blur of desire that was making everything fuzzy around the edges, she felt what he did next. One finger slid under the edge of her knickers and traced along her slit.

"Sybil, you're so wet already, darling..."

"I know, it's your fault, oh please..."

He pulled his finger out and lifted it to her mouth. She tasted herself, licking her lips, letting her eyelids drop. Then, her eyes flew open again as his fingers pushed inside her, _hard_.

Sybil's body was responding eagerly to Tom's touch, like a snowdrop at the beginning of spring, turning towards the rays of the sun it had been craving. She lifted her hips off the floor and he read her signal, pulling off her knickers and leaving her naked, open, melting into liquid for him.

His mouth came down on hers again, and he kissed her fiercely, his tongue moving in the same rhythm as his fingers as he pumped them in and out of her core. Then, she felt a new pulse of heat rising from where his thumb began to graze over her clit, once, twice, three times.

Lost, completely lost in him, the world was spinning beyond her comprehension. He could do this to her every time, seemingly without even trying, leaving her drowning in pure sensation. Nothing left of her rational brain, she was all animal instinct, shivering and gasping in delight at his every touch, desperate to get closer to him, to feel him more intensely. Longing, aching for release.

But he didn't give it to her. Not yet.

Instead, he kept her there, at the very brink of oblivion, circling and teasing her clit over and over again, knowing just how to touch her to send her flying, but taking his own sweet time. Letting her know that, this time, _he_ would decide when she came.

He lifted his mouth from hers for a moment, and she took the chance to let out a broken moan, a moan of supplication.

"Please, please... I can't..."

"Oh yes, you can. You're not ready yet."

She hadn't believed it was possible but, somehow, he took her even higher without letting her fall. Just as she thought she must burst into flame, that she couldn't, just _couldn't_, take any more...

Soaring, flying towards the indigo dome of the winter sky, she was a shooting star, leaving a shower of sparks in her wake.

"Ooohh, oh TOM!"

She was bucking against his hand, screaming so loudly that he leaned down to cover her mouth with his again, taking in her cries. Orgasm after orgasm raced through her body and she was helpless against their onslaught.

Sybil didn't even realise that Tom had moved behind her, one hand reaching down to unzip his fly, until he rolled her onto her hands and knees. The intensity with which he drove his cock into her caught the swell of her pleasure as it ebbed at last, lifting her up again as he held her steady by grabbing onto her hips.

Bracing herself against the coffee table, she pushed back against his thrusts as hard as she could. Taking his hand in hers and pulling it between her legs, she rubbed herself against it. He was driving so deeply into her now, she thought he might split her in two, but still she urged him onwards, wanting more, always more, desperate for him.

"Come on, darling, come again for me..."

She felt herself explode again at his words, her body at the limit of her endurance. Then, she heard his shout behind her:

"Oh feck, Sybil!"

He fell onto her back as he reached his peak, his body shaking from the force of it, and she crashed to the floor under his weight. She could feel his heart racing against her skin and was content just to breathe, letting them both come back to themselves.

As they lay there, tangled in each others' embrace, her sweaty skin cooling, the phone rang. The machine picked it up.

"Sybil, dear? It's your mother. I'm worried about you. Are you sure you are all right? What's happening over there?"

Sybil fingered the tender spot on her neck, and smiled to herself as she realised she had grazed her knees on the carpet. But she felt no pain - all her nerves were overloaded with drowsy bliss.

_Oh Mama__... what would you say if I told you I asked your new chauffeur to move in with me after our first, three-day date, and we've been banging each other senseless ever since?_

* * *

><p><em>AN - _

"Grá mianach" = love of mine in Irish Gaelic, per Google Translate


	12. Dawn goes down to day

_Author's note_

I had to post a (slightly late) update to this collection for S/T Smut Weekend, didn't I! It's set in my Erin go Bragh! AU, in the early days of Tom and Sybil's marriage.

This fic is dedicated to a good friend and wonderfully talented writer, Yankee Countess, to thank her for everything she does for our fandom - especially for LSL week last week!

Let me know what you think! I always love to hear from you. ;)

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><p><strong>Dawn goes down to day<strong>

_"Where Lagan stream sings lullaby  
>There blows a lily fair<br>The twilight gleam is in her eye  
>The night is on her hair..."<em>

Tom's baritone voice could be heard over the sizzle of bacon in the pan.

He couldn't stop himself from smiling that morning. Most mornings, actually. Being married to Sybil was more wonderful, more amazing that he'd ever dreamed it could be. Not just because he loved her more every day, and because sharing his life with her gave him such pure, unalloyed joy.

But also because of what it was like to be... _intimate_ with her, as husband and wife.

He made himself blush sometimes, thinking about what it was like being with her in that way. She was so passionate, so adventurous... he'd never expected that the well brought up daughter of an Earl could be so... well, so damn _sexy_.

It was surprisingly warm for autumn, and the early morning sunshine streaming in the window of their little kitchen struck the bare skin of his back, sending a pleasurable shiver rippling down his spine. Then, he felt a stirring in his pyjama pants at the thought of what he and Sybil been doing an hour or so earlier, and grinned.

_Can life get much better than this?_

As he was about to learn – it could.

The bedroom door opened, and he heard his wife's bare feet padding across the kitchen floor towards him.

"Good morning, my darling... mmmm, that smells good!"

He turned off the stove and turned towards her. Then, his jaw dropped – he couldn't believe what he was seeing!

Normally, Sybil put her nightgown back on in these early mornings, ready to sit with him at the kitchen table and share breakfast before getting ready for work. But today – she had grabbed his undershirt off the floor and pulled that over her head instead.

She had a cheeky smile on her lips, and her newly bobbed hair was tousled around her face. His undershirt grazed the tops of her thighs, and the open buttons at the neck left him a tantalising glimpse of the shadow between her breasts.

And she was wearing nothing else.

It was almost more alluring than seeing her naked, and Tom couldn't take his eyes off her.

"I didn't think you'd mind me borrowing it, Branson..." She winked at him.

"I'm not sure about that, milady. I didn't hear you asking permission to wear it," he growled, taking a step towards her.

She responded in kind. "Well, if you don't want me wearing it, come and take it off me!"

Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she ran back across the room and to the other side of the kitchen table. "Go on – I dare you."

"You little minx – why, I ought to..."

He ran across the room towards her and chased her round the table. After a couple of circuits and coming close more than once, only to lose his grip on her, he managed to grab her from behind, kissing the back of her neck as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her towards him.

She struggled to escape again, but that only made him hold her more tightly, tickling her sides and making her squirm even more. The feel of her warm, yielding body under the thin, worn cotton of his undershirt was making his own body respond to her, in ways she couldn't help but notice.

Her arms came around his neck as she turned towards him, making the fabric of his undershirt ride even higher as they stumbled backwards towards the kitchen table.

She leaned against its edge, smiling at him under her eyelashes, and he could see the shadow between her thighs, now barely covered. His eyes travelled slowly upwards, to the smooth plane of her belly, and onto the round curves of her breasts, topped by hard nipples that showed beneath the thin cotton. Then the creamy line of her throat, her parted lips, her flushed cheeks...

"Oh please, Branson, have mercy!" Her voice was husky with longing and he didn't hesitate to show her he was feeling the same way, kissing her fiercely.

As their mouths moved against each other, his hands began to trace up the smooth skin of her back, beneath his undershirt. Then, they moved down to grasp her waist, and further down to cup her arse.

After a few minutes of these caresses, the undershirt had ridden up to her belly, leaving her bare below it. She was kicking her legs, struggling to wrap them around his hips and pull them into hers, but he resisted her.

His hand came to rest on her inner thigh, silky soft and trembling at his touch. Slowly, very slowly, he traced up to where her thighs met. One finger ran along her slit, and he smiled at her again.

"Milady, you're so wet, and I've barely touched you! You're such a wanton young woman, aren't you..."

"Yes, oh yes, I am, Branson..." she panted, her eyes half closed as she savoured his touch. "Mmm... What were you saying before?"

"I beg your pardon, milady?"

"You ought to... what?"

Her eyes flashed cool sapphire, almost imperious, as he leaned towards her and whispered in her ear.

"I ought to put you over my knee and spank you."

_Have I taken this too far?_

The spark of excitement in her eyes surprised him – this wasn't the first time they'd played games with each other in the few months since their marriage, but still...

He followed her lead, sitting down in the kitchen chair and pulling her towards him. "Come here to me, milady."

She smiled at him, biting her lip as she bent herself over his knee.

"I know, I've been bad, Branson. I deserve to be punished... _hard."_ She gasped out the last word when his hand struck her bare arse.

"Stay still, milady – the more you move, the more smacks you will get."

Another smack, and another. Her skin was beginning to glow red, but she was moaning in delight, begging him for more. He'd barely dared to imagine himself doing this with her. She never ceased to surprise him, this amazing wife of his!

A few more smacks, each one harder than the last, each one evoking gasps of pleasure from the woman over his knee.

"I think that's enough for now, milady. You seem to be enjoying your punishment too much..."

He lifted her from his lap and laid her down on the table, on her front this time, leaving her naked bottom visible and glowing red with his handprints. Unable to wait any longer, he moved between her thighs, thrusting his aching, erect cock into her as hard as he could.

Sybil began to orgasm almost instantly as he pumped in and out of her. She grabbed onto the edge of the table, pushing herself back towards him and screaming.

"Oh, God, BRANSON!"

But Tom wasn't done with her yet. Sliding one hand around the top of her thigh, he found her tingling clit and began to stroke it, slowly, firmly, as he thrust into her harder, deeper each time. She bucked and moaned beneath him, and it didn't take her long to come again. Once that happened, he finally allowed himself to do the same, letting out a roar that was barely human before collapsing on top of her.

Minutes passed by, neither of them capable of speech. He pulled the cotton fabric from her shoulder and pressed his mouth to the soft skin he revealed, biting her hard enough to leave a mark.

"Oh, Tom, oh God that was... I never knew..."

He let himself fall from her and rolled her onto her back. Her legs were spread wide, leaving her open to him, and he began touching her again, not yet ready to end this contact with her.

His thumb traced back and forth over her tender clit, knowing how sensitive she always was in these moments, but unable to stop himself. Her eyelids dropped again and she began to moan, showing him that she was ready for more.

He wasn't going to miss this chance.

His thumb gradually moved faster, harder on her swollen clit, while he slid two fingers into her tight, warm core, pumping in and out of her as his cock had been doing just a few minutes before.

"You just can't get enough, can you, milady?" he murmured, leaning over her to kiss the valley between her breasts, teasingly displayed in the open neck of his undershirt.

"No, oh God, no, I can't... "

He felt her begin to convulse again as his lips moved up towards her throat, but held her back, playing her body skilfully as he had learned to do, taking her to the brink over and over again until she was begging him for release.

Then, finally, he let her go. She exploded around him, her core gripping his fingers tightly, and she moaned and closed her eyes as the waves broke over her.

"You can borrow my clothes any time, Mrs Branson," he murmured to her, sliding his other hand up her belly to stroke her breasts under the thin cotton that still covered them, feeling them rise and fall with her ragged breath.

She considered that, then smiled at him. "Have you still got the chauffeur's jacket?"

* * *

><p><em>AN - _

The title comes from the Robert Frost poem, "Nothing gold can stay". I like to think of the Bransons as the exception to that rule!

The song Tom sings is a traditional Irish air, "My Lagan Love", which I first heard of via the lovely Yankee Countess in one of her fics.


	13. Bending the rules

_Author's note_

I wrote this ficlet in response to a prompt from the lovely Yankee Countess, who asked for a modern AU where Sybil gets glasses for the first time and leaves Tom all hot and bothered as he remembers a certain fantasy.

Let me know what you think! I always love to hear from you. ;)

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><p><strong>Bending the rules<strong>

Sybil hesitated outside the restaurant to check herself in the window, wondering what Tom would think.

He was already at a table, bottle of beer in front of him, as she walked inside. She saw his eyes sparkle, blue flames kindling in their depths, at the sight of her.

"Hey, you look..."

He leaned forward, touching the frame of her new glasses as she sat down. "Very hot _indeed_, Lady Sybil."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah."

He put his hand on the back of her head, pulling her across the table for a kiss.

"I can tell you right now, I would have spent a lot more time in the library at college if our librarian had looked like you!"

"But would you have got any more study done?"

"Probably not, but who cares!"

He winked and her stomach flipped over inside her. She looked down demurely, loving the feel of his eyes on her.

"Shall we order?"

* * *

><p>"Mmm, hold that thought!" Sybil broke their kiss, stepping out of Tom's arms just as they were tightening around her.<p>

"Come back, I want to... where are you going?" An adorable pout appeared on his face, which made her long to kiss him again.

"Give me a minute, I have an idea."

He growled at her retreating back as she headed into her bedroom.

Dropping her suit jacket on the bed, she leaned into the mirror to put on some pink lip gloss, then picked up her brush. Running it through her long hair, which she gathered into a ponytail, she quickly created a neat bun on the back of her head. Then, she undid the top two buttons of her white silk blouse, letting it fall open at the throat to reveal a teasing glimpse of cleavage.

Finally, she tried the 'over the glasses' look, letting the frame slide down her nose, and smiled at herself before walking back into the living room.

Tom was sitting at the table, leafing through the paper.

"I'm sorry, sir, the library is closing now."

His face when he looked at her was a picture. She stepped closer to him, all business.

"Did you hear me, sir? The library is closing - I am going to have to ask you to leave."

"I'm sorry, Miss..."

"_Lady_ Sybil Crawley, actually." She tried the 'over the glasses' move she'd practiced in the bedroom and was rewarded with the sight of a cheeky grin spreading over his face. She kept her own face stern, to continue the illusion.

"Well, Lady Sybil, I'm hoping you can make an exception, just for me. I only need five more minutes and I'm done. Ah, go on?"

She shook her head, aware that the movement left her hairdo feel a little loose. "I'm afraid not, sir. Those are the rules, and I never break the rules."

"Never?"

He stood up to face her. His hand came to rest on her hip and a spark crackled down her spine. Staying in character, she pushed his hand away quickly.

"If you don't mind, sir - I need to lock up now. There's no point turning on the charm, it won't work with me..."

She began to walk away but stopped when he grabbed her hand.

"Milady, wait. Please."

She was backing up towards the bookcase now, and as he came closer he seemed to fill her field of vision, blocking out the rest of the world.

He rested his hand on the wall near her head and leaned down to her. They stared at each other for a moment before he reached up with his other hand to remove her glasses.

"Why, Lady Sybil, you're beautiful!" he murmured, letting his hand come to rest on her blushing cheek.

He put a finger under her chin and tipped her face up to his. Lost in the moment, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him eagerly. Straight away, he pushed her backwards until she was pressed against the shelves, sliding his arm around her waist to bring her close.

Their kiss grew deeper, blurrier, leaving her knees buckling beneath her. If it hadn't been for him holding her so tightly, she would have fallen.

He stepped back from her for a moment, eyes blazing into hers. She looked down and shook her head, feeling the last of the pins fall away, and her dark waves of hair tumbled around her face. Then, she looked up at him again.

That was all it took.

The next thing she knew, her skirt was around her waist, her leg was hooked up over his hip, his fingers were pushing her knickers aside. He thrust into her eagerly, his cock filling her so perfectly. She reached up and grabbed at the shelves behind her, hearing a couple of books fall to the floor as he lifted her up, cupping her arse in his hands, so she could wrap her legs around his waist.

His mouth crashed onto hers, his kiss fierce, raw, his teeth grazing her lip. She could feel a pulse of heat between her legs, which expanded upwards into a wave as he drove more deeply into her, over and over, the force of him leaving her back banging against the shelves with each thrust. More books were falling to the floor, a steady patter that sounded like rain.

He was _fucking _her now, murmuring her name as his lips moved to her throat and she felt his bite, his mark on her skin. Grabbing at the buttons on her shirt, he tore it open, his hand finding her breasts.

It only took a few moments more for the wave of heat to roar through her to the crown of her head, filling her entire body with an aching release.

"Tom, oh Christ, TOM!" she shouted as she came, clutching the back of his shirt, digging her nails into his back. He was right there with her, groaning deeply and letting his head fall backwards as his own orgasm tore through him.

They stood there for a few minutes, letting their breathing ease, before Tom gently helped her down, smoothing her skirt back over her hips.

"Lady Sybil, I'm shocked - is that how you usually enforce the rules around here?"

"Only for you, sir." Sybil stayed in character as she rebuttoned her shirt and twisted up her hair, settling the glasses back on her nose as she looked up at him. "I know, I've been naughty. Please, don't tell my supervisor."

"I'll think about it."

"Mmm. Perhaps this would this help to convince you?"

She took his hand and started leading him towards her bedroom. "Would you like to see the restricted section? It's only permitted for very special visitors, and you must be accompanied by a member of the library staff at all times."

"Sounds like a plan, milady" he replied, following her inside and closing the door behind them.


	14. In the bleak midwinter

_Author's note_

I wrote this ficlet in response to a "rock the holiday AU" prompt from the lovely Yankee Countess - "fireplace", which inspired me to write up a certain headcanon I had been thinking about for a while. Hope you enjoy, my dear!

Thank you so much for reading, and for your support of this collection - look forward to hearing what you think of this one. ;) Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to the entire S/T fandom!

* * *

><p><strong>In the bleak midwinter<strong>

_Christmas Eve, 1919, Dublin_

Sybil was towelling her hair dry as she walked into the living room after her bath. The fire was crackling in the grate, and the couch was calling her like a long lost friend.

The silk nightgown and robe she was wearing slipped over her skin like water as she crossed the room to answer that call. Since Tom was meant to be working late that Christmas Eve, she was taking the chance for a little solo indulgence, bringing her sisters' wedding present out from the drawer where it had lain since their marriage.

_Somehow I never seem to wear it when he's around..._

She lay down on the couch and picked up her book. For a while, she became engrossed in the tragic world of Ethan Frome, while (as often happened these days) the hand not holding the book rested on her stomach, unconsciously running back and forth across the small, round bump there.

That night, the feel of the silk under her hand eventually made her stop reading and put down the book. Her hand trailed up her body to her breasts, already fuller and heavier, and she felt her nipples rise up hard and tight against the delicate fabric. As she kept stroking herself, a memory flashed into her mind from earlier that day.

* * *

><p><em>...Tom's hand, stroking her nipples as they lay together in bed, already late for work. The way he whispered to her in Irish, words she was starting to understand - "mo chailín álainn", my beautiful girl. The way he kissed her neck as he touched her, his rough morning stubble sending thrills darting across her skin...<em>

* * *

><p>"Oohhhh, Tom," she murmured, her hand slipping back down her body, untying the belt of the robe before stopping again at the curve that cradled their growing child, then down past her hips.<p>

Without hesitation, she moved her hand under the hem of her nightgown and began to trace back a path up her thighs, towards the dark curls that crowned them. Since her marriage, she had learned so much about her body and the pleasure it could bring her, and she knew exactly where she was headed.

She found her soft, velvety folds, already warm and wet as her fingers moved between them, focusing on the hard bud at their centre. It trembled at her touch, and the feeling sent another memory from that morning sparking across her memory like lightning.

* * *

><p><em>...Tom's mouth, his lips and tongue skilfully teasing her until she could hardly bear it. The way he lifted her off the sheets, resting her legs over his broad shoulders as he pushed further between her thighs. The way she tangled her fingers in his hair, arching her back in pleasure...<em>

* * *

><p>"Yes, my darling, oh yes," she whispered, eyes closed, all her senses focused on her clit. She fine tuned each stroke, listening to her body as it responded to her lightest touch, feeling her way with a confidence she could only have imagined as a love struck teenager in her bedroom at Downton Abbey.<p>

As her climax began building low down in her belly, one more morning memory came to her mind.

* * *

><p><em>...Tom's cock, driving into her again and again, pushing her up the bed as she grabbed the sheets and moaned in delight. The way his fingers slid between them to the place of their joining, his expert touch sending her flying. The way he kept his mouth on hers as she convulsed beneath him, gasping his name...<em>

* * *

><p>She didn't even hear the key turn in the lock, so engrossed was she in the sensual world she had created for herself. The first thing she knew of her husband's return was the touch of his lips on hers.<p>

Her eyes opened, but it was too late to stop. She let out a muffled cry as she reached her peak, dropping her head off the edge of the couch as her whole body vibrated like a well-played violin, her heart racing, her breathing ragged.

"Couldn't wait for me to get home, mo céile? Perhaps I can join you this time around..."

Tom picked Sybil up off the couch and laid her down on the floor, leaving the robe behind. He slid behind her and pulled her partly on top of him as she lay on her back, so his hands had free access to roam over her whole body.

"This is pretty, love. Why haven't I seen it before?" he said, running his hands up her sides before pulling the ribbon straps of the nightgown down from her shoulders.

"Why do you think? Anything I wear to bed with you ends up on the floor in five minutes flat!"

"You may have a point there. Mmmm, your skin is softer than silk, Sybil..."

He proved his point by pressing his mouth to her throat, just below her ear, kissing and biting her there, as his hands slid around to pull the fabric away from her breasts. She closed her eyes as he began to caress them, cupping the heavy mounds in his hands, running his callused thumbs across her nipples and making her shiver in delight.

"Sweetheart, I think _these_ are getting bigger every time I touch them. Are they tender? Would you like me to massage them for you?"

"Tom, I think that's what you're already... ohhhh, oh that's good, keep doing that!"

"As you wish, milady," he murmured, his voice muffled as he buried his face in her neck, his hands continuing their ministrations in a way that made her purr like a cat.

After a while, Tom's hands began to drift lower, coming to rest on Sybil's bump as he pushed the nightgown down to her hips. She could feel the warmth of the fire lapping against her skin, which was matched by the heat suffusing her body from her husband's touch.

She reached down herself to pull the nightgown off, dropping it on the floor, leaving her naked. Then, she took his hand and pulled it down to rest at her centre.

"Oh, you still want me, do you, after that?" She could hear the grin in his voice.

"Do I really have to prove that to you, after what happened between us this morning? I was an hour late for work because I couldn't leave you."

"Me too, Sybil - my editor had a choice word or two for me when I arrived, but it was worth every second." He kissed her at the place where her neck and shoulder met.

"So, to answer your question - yes, I still want you, so much I can hardly stand it..." She wriggled her hips backwards against his. "Please, Tom, touch me..."

He ran a finger up and down her slit, slowly, not going any further. Not yet, anyway. Instead, he lifted his finger to her lips, letting her taste her own juices as he whispered in her ear.

"Sybil, God, you've no idea what you do to me. When I came home just now to find you... _pleasuring yourself..._" He stopped speaking and bit her neck instead, marking her as his own.

"I was only practising what I have learned at your hands, darling," she murmured cheekily.

"What were you thinking about, while you did it? Were you thinking about... me?"

"You're frightfully full of yourself, aren't you?" she teased. Then, she nodded. "Every minute, I was thinking of you, remembering what we do together, and longing to do it all again..."

She felt him lift her hips as his hand fumbled behind her to undo his buttons. Then, she felt his cock, erect and straining against the inside of her thigh, and she shifted her position slightly to welcome him inside her.

"Oh feck, Sybil, that feels so good. Move against me, love, like this..."

He held her to him and rolled them onto their sides, facing the fire, guiding her to meet his thrusts until she got the rhythm of it. Then, one hand resting at her waist, the other one moved down between her legs to stroke her clit. She was still so sensitive from her last orgasm that she cried out at his touch, but when he made to pull away, she stopped him.

"Don't stop, Tom, oh God, don't stop whatever you do!"

Sybil screwed her eyes shut, concentrating on building the waves of pleasure between them, the waves that seemed endless. She adored the way Tom could touch her everywhere as they moved together, the rough wool of his overcoat teasing her tingling skin all over. The warmth of the fire kissed the curves and planes of her body to a tender gleam as he drove into her, harder and faster each time, and it only took a few more minutes until she was shooting like a firecracker across the dark sky.

"Please, oh please... TOOOOMMM!"

She screamed, bucking her hips back against his, as she came. At the same moment, she felt him spend himself inside her, groaning aloud as his own climax tore through him.

After a couple of minutes, he pulled apart from her and turned her gently onto her back. Leaning up on one elbow above her, his other hand traced a path from her breasts, to her hips, to her stomach, over and over, soothing her. Her eyes were still closed, but she could feel him _looking_, loving her with his eyes, the way he used to do when he was still her father's chauffeur at Downton Abbey.

When she opened her eyes, he was looking at her that way again, and it brought a lump to her throat. She reached up to touch his face, letting her thumb rest against his lips, and he turned his mouth into her palm to kiss it.

"You know, Tom, I always knew when you were looking at me that way, back before we were married. You tried to hide it sometimes but I always knew. I could _feel_ your gaze."

"And how did it make you feel?"

"It made me feel - treasured. As it I were the most precious thing in the world to you."

He bent down to kiss her, trailing his hand down to rest on her stomach as he did so.

"Sybil, you are, you always will be. Since the first minute I saw you, nothing else has mattered in this world to me but you. I couldn't help looking at you every time I was near you - you were like oxygen to me, I needed to see you to be able to breathe. And when you finally agreed to marry me..."

He kissed her again, more deeply this time. "Now, I feel so lucky - to have the woman of my dreams as my wife, naked in my arms, carrying our child. I never had a more wonderful Christmas than this. I love you so, so much, sweetheart, I don't have the words to tell you..."

This time, it was Sybil who put her hand on the back of Tom's neck, pulling him back down to her for another long, warm kiss.

"I love you too, darling Tom. Just think of it - by next Christmas we will be holding our own baby in our arms. Our love, brought to life in a child of our own!" She felt her eyes fill with tears at the thought.

"Mo ghile... don't cry, don't cry. Everything will be wonderful, I promise you," he whispered to her, kissing the tears from her lashes. Then, he lay down next to her and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her inside his overcoat, bringing her head to rest on his chest, their bodies pressed together tightly.

They lay there for quite some time by the dying fire, occasionally kissing and whispering, lost in their love and in their dreams of their life to come. The snow was falling from the steel-dark sky, carpeting the city in a blanket of white, but inside their little flat the Bransons needed no other warmth than each other.

* * *

><p><em>AN -_

"mo céile" = my wife, "mo ghile" = my darling, in Irish Gaelic, per Google Translate. Sybil is reading _Ethan Frome_, by Edith Wharton.


End file.
